You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Stories’ category.

They are prejudiced, the cabbies in town. Because the sun has risen every morning in memory, they expect it to dawn during this shift too, and to dawn again one minute earlier each day until the solstice, then later again each morning like the year before. They predict low wages. They anticipate dents and rattles and non-lethal automotive malfunctions and for their tips to be insufficient to ditch the business altogether to the younger hacks and spend their days fishing for trophy. And they don’t take dark-skinned fares uptown. They explain it this way:

Seven times I’ve seen a knife in this cab and two guns. Usually I just see it; it’s shown to me, or it’s deployed by someone to threaten someone else. But twice it’s used to injure or persuade me physically. Once I’m stabbed. Once a shot is fired through the windshield. Of the nine times, each time I’m the only native Caucasian in the car. So I have a policy. No dark fares after sundown, none uptown any time of day. It’s common sense. You judge from what you’ve seen, you act on what you know, you live to serve your sentence.

To confound this logic, a group of us, a very small but steadfast group, have been systematically stabbing cabbies. We dress well, carry umbrellas, and stand outside expensive hotels with a finger in the air. We kiss our dates goodbye and get inside. We introduce ourselves invariably as Mr. White, which most of them later recall. We entertain our driver with the same rap every time. We’ve been injured, we say, sometimes grievously, in multiple, near-fatal automobile accidents, but we can’t remember what color the cars were. Then we cut them, carefully, therapeutically, to alter the odds the only way we know how.

Copyright ©1997

Answer these questions, and we will match you with your ideal companion.

  1. What do you want in a wife?
  2. What will you do when that category of human you described, in 1, does not exist?
  3. What makes you think you deserve that category of human you described, in 1?
  4. Whatever happened to the wife we gave you the first time?
  5. If your first wife encountered you accidentally, would she cross the street?
  6. Would you cross the street?
  7. Would you end up on the same side of the street?
  8. Why do you spend so much time on the street?
  9. What is it you can’t find indoors?
  10. When you look deep into your heart, or your soul, or the otherwise random concatenation of incongruent memories that cling to your singular perspective, which emptiness, scarcity, or incompatibility scares you the most?
  11. Do you have a pet?
  12. What car do you drive?
  13. When we asked about your car, and possible pet, did you momentarily relax, equilibrium restored, and regain confidence in the questionnaire, partially?
  14. Do you want to sleep with your pet?
  15. Yes, we mean that kind of sleep.
  16. Why not?
  17. If you were forced to decide between finding a loving soulmate who would be your lifelong loving wife and watching your pet, who, for the sake of argument, had been snatched from your back yard and sold into a dog-fight circuit, forced into the ring to defend her life against a much larger and more vicious predatory sort of fight-trained dog, what would you decide?
  18. We thought so.
  19. This concludes the questionnaire.
  20. No, you don’t get any more questions.
  21. No, that is completely irrelevant.
  22. No.
  23. Thank you for your honest replies.
  24. No, you cannot change them.
  25. Say thank you.
  26. You’re welcome.
  27. An ideal candidate will shortly be knocking on your door.
  28. Be there. Answer.

Blog Stats

  • 1,000,232 Novel Readers

299-WORD NOVELS

Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

Search by Date

Follow Very Short Novels on WordPress.com