March 08, 2008

"Don't Stew, Stu"

By Brock Goldberg

Stuart Wellesley flinched back as another car sped through the puddles, spraying his cheap squirrel suit, drenching the "Nut Emporium--We're Plain Nuts!" sandwich board.
Stuart wanted to quit, but Sharon said if he left another job, she'd leave. He couldn't live without her.
Mickey, the boss, delighted in humiliating him. He didn't need to wear a squirrel costume for advertising. The store did plenty of business.
As if conjured by Stuart's thoughts, Mickey's oversized Hummer roared by, swerving toward the puddle. Between the water and the squirrel head, he couldn't quite see, but was that Sharon in the passenger seat?
Impossible...wasn't it? She had been acting odd lately. Hadn't he seen a Hummer speeding away a few nights ago when he got to her house?
Stuart had worked himself into a frenzy by the time Mickey got back. He wouldn't live without Sharon. He stepped into the driveway, holding up his paw for Mickey to stop. Sharon would understand--he was fighting for her.
Too late he realized the Hummer wasn't slowing.

Sharon looked at Mickey as she dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl.
"You'll have to go after supper. Stuart will be here soon."
Mickey sighed. "You're going to dump that guy."
"I know," she said, "but he's so sensitive. I'm worried he'd hurt himself."
She took a bite.
"Mmmm... this is delicious. What is it?"
Mickey grinned. "That's stew."

About the author: Brock Goldberg lives in Ohio, where he collects dust. You can email him at BrockGoldberg1@gmail.com.

March 08, 2008 "Don't Stew, Stu" By Brock Goldberg
Stuart Wellesley flinched back as another car sped through the puddles, spraying his cheap squirrel suit, drenching the "Nut Emporium--We're Plain Nuts!" sandwich board. Stuart wanted to quit, but Sharon said if he left another job, she'd leave. He couldn't live without her. Mickey, the boss, delighted in humiliating him. He didn't need to wear a squirrel costume for advertising. The store did plenty of business. As if conjured by Stuart's thoughts, Mickey's oversized Hummer roared by, swerving toward the puddle. Between the water and the squirrel head, he couldn't quite see, but was that Sharon in the passenger seat? Impossible...wasn't it? She had been acting odd lately. Hadn't he seen a Hummer speeding away a few nights ago when he got to her house? Stuart had worked himself into a frenzy by the time Mickey got back. He wouldn't live without Sharon. He stepped into the driveway, holding up his paw for Mickey to stop. Sharon would understand--he was fighting for her. Too late he realized the Hummer wasn't slowing. Sharon looked at Mickey as she dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl. "You'll have to go after supper. Stuart will be here soon." Mickey sighed. "You're going to dump that guy." "I know," she said, "but he's so sensitive. I'm worried he'd hurt himself." She took a bite. "Mmmm... this is delicious. What is it?" Mickey grinned. "That's stew."
About the author:	Brock Goldberg lives in Ohio, where he collects dust. You can email him at BrockGoldberg1@gmail.com.

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