“What do you crave most?” asked Jamie of her new friend Stacy, as they lounged like sleepy turtles, sunning on a log. Jamie’s protruding belly was only slightly larger than Stacy’s. Their toddlers squealed and chased each other into the other room, and Stacy relished the momentary quiet.
“Attention, I suppose.” Stacy played with the hem of her oversized shirt. “No, not really attention just to be seen, you know, really seen.” The warm sun coming in the window felt like a hug. “How about you?”
“Well, definitely not attention!” Jamie laughed. “Probably sleep!” her belly bounced amusingly as she laughed. “No really, space, I reckon. And chocolate!”
“Funny, we’re so different,” Stacy mused.
“Careful of the tree!” Jamie hoisted herself off the couch with no small effort, chasing the wild two year olds who threatened her precious Christmas tree ornaments. “Whew!” she returned to the couch with hers in hand and Stacy’s trailing. “Let’s look at some books.”
Stacy noticed that Jamie didn’t say, “okay?” at the end of every sentence. She sighed, longing to be stronger.
“So, are you going home for the holiday?” Stacy asked.
“No way!” Jamie coughed, and Stacy could see she was reigning in her reaction.
“Oh?” Stacy looked at her friend, and saw her.
“Nothing to go home to,” Jamie kissed the top of her toddler’s head. “My folks split when I was a teenager and neither want anything to do with me.”
“Dang,” was all Stacy could find to say.
“It’s okay,” Jamie took a deep breath. “It’s made me who I am.”
“What did you do?” Stacy asked.
Jamie laughed, “What any hungry person ought to do, I worked, hard. Scrubbed toilets, until I got good at that and they let me cook. I learned how to cook though, ask Hank!”
Stacy smiled, “I believe you.”
Cedar
Today was a big day for Misty. She had, for the past seven weeks been washing dishes at Oregrounds, the local coffee shop in her small Oregon town. It was her first job and she had enthusiastically scrubbed the coffee mugs, saucers and bits of pastry off of the white ceramic plates. Usually newbies would have to do the dishes for a good two months, but with Misty’s passion, she was able to cut a week off her time.
This week, she’d be at the register.
“The register,” she said as she stared at herself in the shop’s restroom mirror. She had been up since 4:30 that morning, making sure she was ready to go for her early morning shift. Staring at her reflection, she fingered her hair, making her messy bun look just messy enough to set off an air that she didn’t really care, but just cute enough because she did in fact, care.
She took a deep breath and left the bathroom to begin her shift. Being on register wasn’t the only big deal for today. Today she would come face to face with “Mr. Handsome-pants.” These past seven weeks, she watched him through the slats of the dish room window. He had perfect hair, and of course a beard and wore a satchel over his shoulder. She’d catch glimpses of him at a distance – every day he’d get the house latte, sit at his table by the window and write. He was the dreamiest.
And today, Misty would come face to face with him.
She stood at the register and watched the clock, eager for his timely arrival. It came. 6:35. She watched the door almost maddeningly. There he was. He pushed his way through with one hand and ran his other hand through his hair. His perfect hair. Time slowed down as he made his way to the counter. A slow, depressingly romantic hipster song played through the sound system.
“Hello,” Misty said as Mr. Handsome-pants approached the counter.
“Hi!” Mr. Handsome-pants replied. He smiled.
Misty stared.
Mr. Handsome-pants had a gap as wide as the Mississippi in between his two front teeth.
“Oh.” Misty said.
“Pardon?”
“Oh, um. Sorry. I’m just a little sleepy. Heh,” Misty stumbled. “What can I get for you today?”
“Sounds like you need a coffee too. I’ll take a house latte and how about I get you a cup too. Whatever you’re craving.” He said with a wink.
Misty blushed and thanked him. “What name can I put down for the order?”
“Brian.”
Misty wrote it down on the little white receipt paper, and dotted the “i” with a heart. Brian was a perfect name.
Emily M.
Jenny, quietly tucked inside the tent, heard the rustle of footsteps outside. She held her breath and her gun, waiting, until she heard the familiar whisper of “it’s me, sweet pea” at the zippered door. She relaxed and unzipped the door, and Phillip dove in and re-zipped it quickly.
“What’d you get?” she asked eagerly, grabbing at his knapsack and unloading its contents. A can of meat, a bag of pork rinds, and — oh! glorious day! — a bag of animal crackers! Jenny and Phillip hadn’t had any sweets since the first month of the Zombie Apocalypse, and Jenny was getting sick of salted meat and pickled veggies. She ripped open the bag of animal crackers, took a bite, and let her eyes roll back in her head as she savored the sweetness on her tongue. Phillip reached over for one and she reluctantly handed the bag over.
“I used to think these things tasted like cardboard,” he laughed, popping a giraffe into his mouth. Jenny nodded as she took out an elephant. She looked at Phillip as she bit off the elephant’s head. “Mmm, brains,” she said. Phillip rolled his eyes and lay back on his sleeping bag. Scavenging for food and avoiding murderous zombies had made him sleepy.
Jenny was staring at the tiger cracker in her hand. “Don’t you just crave homemade chocolate chip cookies?” she asked. “Or homemade anything?” She ate the tiger slowly, then rolled up the package to save the rest for later.Tucking it safely away, she also laid down and nestled into the crook of Philip’s arm.
“Yeah,” he murmured, already half-asleep. “Or, you know, eating anything that doesn’t taste of deprivation and terror…” Jenny elbowed him and he smirked in the darkness.
“Obviously,” she said, and ran her fingers through her hair. “And what I wouldn’t give for a long hot shower, and a chance to scrub all this grime off of me.” Seven months she’d gone without a proper shower. Sure, they came across a pond now and then, but algae-ridden pond water can only get a person so clean, and she missed all her nice-smelling soaps and shampoos. She missed all of Phillip’s nice-smelling things too. He was handsome and resourceful, but that didn’t stop him from stinking to high heaven.
He was already snoring. The noise of his snores wasn’t particularly dangerous way out here. They had set up camp deep in the forest, a good long walk from the city where most of the zombie activity took place. Phillip slept with his gun in his hand, Jenny did the same, and if they could forget for a moment all the rambling shambling terror-walking of the monsters a few miles away, it was rather a cozy night.
Elisa
“I’m so sleepy,” the shiny teddy bear Christmas tree ornament mumbled. He yawned. “So … sleepy.”
“Stay awake, Arnold!” hissed the pipe-cleaner elf, swinging a little and making his branch sway slightly. “This might be my last year.”
“Aw, Chip, why do you say that?” Arnold asked, rubbing his sleepy aluminum eyes with an aluminum paw.
“I’m not like you,” Arnold said bitterly. “The mom bought you at a store because she liked you. She keeps you wrapped in paper in a box, so you stay looking pretty. That means she’s gonna keep you. Me … I’m just sentimental. I don’t think the mom even remembers which kid made me. Once the kids grow up she starts ditching the handmade ornaments … do you see Bob this year? The candy cane reindeer? Is he on this tree?” Chip was getting worked up, swinging his branch as he swiveled around, this way and that, in all the directions where Bob couldn’t be seen. “He got tossed. He only lasted three years.”
Arnold’s cute, shiny face looked sad. But a toothless voice slightly above them said, “Stop whining, Chip. Let the bear sleep. You’re in the front. The ornaments that are on their way out get put in the back.” This was from a nutcracker.
A small silver angel with a tinkly voice added: “You’re holding together so nicely, Chip. It’s not just for the child’s sake that she keeps you. She likes the way you look, really!”
“If you don’t fall apart,” put in the nutcracker again, “she might keep you for years yet, as filler for the back. Like Leonard, you know, the snowman. The sparkly one. He’s been facing the wall for half a dozen Christmasses now. Knows every crack and speck of missed paint.”
“Alright alright,” Chip answered shortly. “But I want to see Santa anyway. Just in case.”
The other ornaments nearby began complaining about the noisy group and demanding quiet so they could sleep. Christmas ornaments are notoriously fond of sleep and find it difficult to be kept awake. A grumble spread through the tree.
“It’s Chip, the pipe cleaner elf, staying awake to see Santa Claus,” the toothless nutcracker explained to his neighbor, a hint of derision in his voice. “He thinks Santa will take his soul to the North Pole. And he’s convinced Arnold to stay awake with him.”
Chip hollered at them, without even trying to hush his voice: “You have to see Santa in person when he comes on Christmas Eve, and then when you break or get thrown away, he’ll take your soul to the North Pole to live forever! There’s a room in his workshop where all the old ornaments go, and you don’t have to have a hook or a loop anymore, and you don’t have to dangle from a branch. You get to stand, and sit, and walk around, like the toys do.” Chip sighed. “I think about sitting all the time. I crave a good sit.”
A buzz started among the ornaments, some of whom had never heard this story before, the rest having varying opinions. Chip answered questions for a while, and then the ornaments began to fall quiet again.
“Arnold! Arnold! Are you awake?” Chip suddenly asked.
The bear was not awake. He was sleeping soundly, his shiny aluminum fur glistening under a blue twinkly light.
Chip sighed and looked at the clock. It was eleven p.m.
Chip gave his bead eyes a scrubbing with his pipe cleaner hands. He muttered the North Pole story to himself to try to keep himself awake.
Emily H
The challenge: Random Word Challenge! Write a story or story fragment using all three of the words:
- Crave
- Sleepy
- Scrub
20 minutes
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