3WW - Alley Jump

I am on a roll, not sure if it is good or bad, but I am having fun. Good old Bone posted three words today: stroke -- summer -- love. I looked at them and panicked. But this popped out of my blonde (with some gray) head. . . and how on earth I came up with this, I will never know, but it felt, for a moment like it was November and NaNoWriMo, I could have kept writing for hours. . . but, luckily for you, I didn't: And it is NOT a poem (obviously) and totally NOT true. I give you:

Alley Jump

This is my story and I'm sticking to it. Part 1

I was sitting in the back of Mac's shop, after hours, the window barely pushed open, with my tape recorder on to capture life in the alley after hours. After all, that is what writers do, isn't it? And I meant to make a name for myself quick! At 57 and then some, I needed to make up for lost time. Mac locked me in and left, told me he had no time for that bull, that he was going home to sleep. He gave me that look he gives me when I am about to do something he thinks is stupid. (You all know that look, I'm not the only one he gives it to.) So, I won't tell you about the other things I overheard in the hours before this. This is the story I like, so this is the one you are going to get. Yeah, it's between a gal and a dude.

"Stop doing stuff like that! I almost had a stroke!"

"Quit being such a wimp, it was just a joke."

"Scaring the heck out of someone in a dark alley is not a joke, Humphrey. I could have really had a heart attack."

"First, stop calling me Humphrey, I am not some stuffy old man that sits in a den filled with mildewed books all day whose skin has turned sallow with age and lack of sun and drink after drink." (He was after all 6' 2", with more muscle than the average man needed, but not so much to look gross.)

"Humphrey."

He ignored her word. "And anyone stupid enough to walk down an alley at this hour, deserves the heart attack, then maybe they would spend the recovery time in the hospital revisiting their brain."

"I had to get home."

"You didn't have to go to the pub anyway. You could have gone to the theatre with me."

"Oh yeah, me, go to the theatre with all the other stuffy old men, Humphrey? No, thanks. And you will notice, no one jumped out at me in this alley, except you, and you are supposed to be my friend."

"Just look over here, Ms. Priss. Here's why they didn't jump out at you."

She walked over to the garbage cans he was pointed at, straining to see in the dim light. She didn't hesitate to move one of the cans to see what was behind them, she was no woos. She had lived on her own for 5 years now.

Her initial reaction was deep bellied laughter. "Did you do this? Is that why your shirt is torn? And your hair so stupid looking?"

"Could you can with the stupid remarks?"

He held his right hand up so she could see it. Knuckles torn and bloody, one finger splayed at an unnatural angle, his wrist swollen.

"Had you gotten here first, it would have been you they jumped, in both senses of the word. Now, I'm hungry, let's go eat. I could use some of your scrambled eggs and toast. . . and maybe a jump, myself."


Hate was left behind in the alley for the cops or a drunk to find. After all, the summer night had just turned to a beautiful summer dawn. So, the first of many stories I've gotten on paper for you to read. Now, when is Mac going to show up and unlock this door. I could use some scrambled eggs and a jump myself, the loving kind.

MeeAugraphie
05/30/07

And please, I know one of you is shaking your head, but don't copy my words without permission. Thank you.

To find Bone and 3WW and the links to the other fun writers playing along, click here!