Jul 27, '14 : Remember Mr. Bird?

Filed under: Fiction

The first day in a classroom was always the worst, he thought. Since they all knew each other already, there was none of that nervousness of meeting a new teacher for the first time to keep the kids in line. So they got out of line.

ďThis is not rocket science, this is Sex Ed. Iím not trying to teach you rocket science or Einsteinís theory of relativity, Iím trying to teach you people how to use a goddamn condom,Ē he yelled.

There was snickering. As always. Every year, every goddamn year.

Mr Bird to you.

» Continued

Filed under: Fiction

After a few weeks, when we were out again, K looked at me and told me to get back into shape. Just like that.

ďMan, youíre fat,Ē he said, like that.

I didnít know what to say.

Thumbs up?

» Continued

Filed under: Fiction

After the race, Kís mother invited me to their house, a rare event that made me both uncomfortable and curious at the same time. For all the time that K and I spent together, I had only been at his place once or twice. We always hung out at my place, and ate lunches that my mother made, and listened to records on my parentsí turntable. Sure, K always went back home at the end of the day, or he might zip back to get some records, but I bet I only spent a total of 30 minutes inside their house, and even then, all of it in Kís little room with the door closed.

That one time, though, I sat in their kitchen, and ate cake his mother had made. I wore my silver medal around my neck. She told me she had heard so much about me that she was curious to know what kind of a wonder boy I was, which surprised me. I couldnít imagine K talking about me at all, let alone paint me up as a superhero.

Olivia!

» Continued

Filed under: Fiction

But he was also a great running partner. That summer I was 12, and K was 13, and we talked about the World Cup, and K told me about FBI, after heíd make me promise that Iíd never tell anyone because that might put his Dad in danger, and I told him about the teachers in our school. Somehow K had managed to stay out of school those weeks in May and June, and nobody seemed to miss him.

So I told him which teachers I liked, and which I didnít like, and why. And we ran. We ran those trails and paths, and we ran on track, and we ran around our town from the tennis courts to the beach and from the Dairy Queen to the library.

Ruuuuuun!

» Continued

Filed under: Fiction

The first time K and I became friends, I was 12 years old. He was thirteen, which made him the boss of me, because in that age, age is everything. I was also shorter, and a little skinnier, so even if I ever had decided to go against Kís ideas, he surely would have got me back in line, fast.

But there was never any need for that because we were the best of friends.

A runner.

K.

» Continued

Mar 19, '13 : Woulda coulda shoulda

Filed under: Fiction

Another March day. The sun is shining, after some light snowfall. The snow in spring is so light it looks fake.

ďItís like the snow in the movies,Ē said Wife when she took off with Son and Daughter this morning.

I waved to them from the front door, until I saw Sonís red hat disappear behind the garage. I closed the door, packed my bag and went to the gym because while you can make a change any given day, sometimes you have to keep doing the same thing over and over again to really make a change.

A Paksy original.

» Continued

Aug 09, '12 : Man's best friend

Filed under: Fiction

It got quiet in the back yard. Suddenly. Almost too quiet, and a little too suddenly so I decided to have a look. As I got around the house, I saw Daughter standing very, very still right at the edge of our lawn, looking out to the other side of the fence our neighbors had set up a couple of months earlier.

She didnít move one, but she looked happy. And I knew why.

I stopped, too. I didnít want to spoil her moment.

Non-fiction photo.

» Continued