Tag Archives: love

Marketing 101

“What’s this car run on?”

“It runs on love,” I said.

The investor stared at me. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I was sweating. “You think about someone you love; it powers the car.”

“I’m out,” he said. “I don’t want to break down because of an attack of road rage.”

Actually, the car ran on belief. If you believed it worked, it did. But belief was too nebulous. You had to concentrate on something. I picked love.

The next year, I saw an ad for the Chevy ‘Murica. It ran on American greatness. They sold millions.

I should have gone with that.


Swinger

It was a beautiful girl day to be at the amusement park.

Jamie felt his spirits lift as once again the swing pulled him into the air. The crowds flew by beneath him and then—ah, there she was at her post in the second floor VIP lounge. Then for four seconds the rest of the park whirled below until she appeared again. He loved just watching her.

The next time around she was looking towards him. She smiled and waved and then was gone.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He had four seconds to decide what to do.


If I Had a Penny – A Poem to My Wife

This just goes to show you never know what you’ll get from the Green-Walled Tower.

Even a now-obsolete Canadian penny [*]

Even a now-obsolete Canadian penny [*]

If I had a penny for every woman I have asked to marry me,

If I had a nickel for every one that I have traveled the world with,

If I had a dime for every woman I have seen and thought that I could spend the rest of my life with,

Then I’d have sixteen cents and I would probably lose that in the crack of the couch.

 

But if I had a dollar for every time I told you “I love you,”

I would seriously wonder who was paying me that money,

And I would feel a little bad for them,

Because I would be a billionaire.


Bruised Heartwood – Friday Fictioneers

I’m currently on the road and writing this in a hotel. As always, I wish I could read more of the other stories but I should be able to pretty soon in the future.

copyright Madison Woods

copyright Madison Woods

Bruised Heartwood

The gnarled old oak tree on the hill loved Jenny. He loved watching her spread her picnic blanket in his shade.

“I’ll dress up for Halloween,” he said, and propped a goat’s skull in the crook of his branches.

But no one saw or cared, even Jenny who was at a party.

His heartwood was wounded deeply, and tearing up roots long planted, he rampaged through the town.

They caught him, cut him down, chopped him up. “Trees go bad,” they said.

But Jenny didn’t dance around the fire they made and her heart ached, although she didn’t know why.

 


Homecoming – Friday Fictioneers

Copyright D Lovering

Copyright D Lovering

Homecoming

The whole town was there, standing in hushed anticipation for the return of Senor Najera’s son from the war.

“He was wounded,” someone whispered. “Hit by the enemy’s new weapon.”

The ship approached, the gangplank descended, and Mateo Najera appeared. The crowd gasped.

The rags of the once-proud army uniform were stretched over the misshapen, hulking figure that shambled off. One huge eye lolled at them, roaming witlessly.

Senora Najera tore from her husband’s restraint. “Stop!” he shouted. “What if he’s contagious?”

“He’s still my baby,” she said and ran to embrace him until her tears wet his festering skin.

 


My Barista Loves Me

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. Or, if you hate Valentine’s Day, as some people do, happy Jeongwol Daeboreum, which is a Korean holiday celebrating the first full moon of the lunar year.

As a disclaimer, this story is totally fictitious. I only say that because my wife reads my blog and I really don’t want her mad at me on Valentine’s Day.

barista

Her name is Sally, according to her nametag. I’m not saying I’m going to marry her someday, but I’m not saying I’m not either. Let me tell you how it all started.

On the day I met her, my day wasn’t going well. If days were rated by cable news, that one would have been Bad Dayocalypse. I don’t remember why now, I just know I was in the foul mood when I walked into the new Java Bean.

I’ll always remember the first words she said to me: “Can I take your order?” Then she gave me a smile that lifted my spirit to the heavenly realm. It was more than just a polite smile. There was something there.

When she handed me my cafe latte (with another glowing smile), my heart skipped a beat. She had drawn a heart in the cream on top! This girl seriously had a thing for me. Things were moving so fast, but I felt invigorated. The day had gotten a lot better.

Love at first sip.

Love at first sip.

My Barista Loves Me

Our relationship settled into a routine. I went to the Java Bean every day she worked (it took me a week or so to figure that out) and ordered my regular. Almost every time, she would draw a heart in the foam on top. It was like her signal to me that everything was still okay. I used to watch her work, trying not to be jealous when she smiled at other customers. That’s just her job. She has to be polite to them, I would think, over and over. It doesn’t mean anything with them, like it does with me.

Then came the day I happened to walk by the counter as she was giving another customer his coffee. There was a heart drawn on his too! It was almost too much for me. Had everything she had done for me been a sham? No, of course not, but was her love for me waning now? I couldn’t go back to the Java Bean for a couple days, but when I did, she smiled at me as always. I was tempted to say something cutting, but I didn’t. When I got my coffee, it had a string of three little hearts on top and all my anger melted. It was like this was her apology to me.

coffee three hearts

These days, we’re like an old married couple. I love our banter as she’s taking my money or making the coffee. “Cold weather today, eh?” I say. “Sure is,” she replies. Is that just like her? Boy, I love her.

I’m not sure if this has a future or not, but for now I’m just taking it slow. Still, no matter what happens, I know my barista loves me.


Jumping to Conclusions – Friday Fictioneers

This week is a major holiday in Korea called Chuseok, which is like Thanksgiving. I am on the road now and writing this from a hotel room. Luckily, it had a computer, or I would have to write it on my phone.

copyright John Nixon

copyright John Nixon

The elderly man stood in the doorway of the shop, facing a mannequin in a white dress.

“I know you don’t talk much,” he said, “but I’ve seen you here, day after day as I pass by and I wanted to tell you that I really like you. Would you have dinner with me sometime?”

I felt pity for him. The poor, senile man had fallen in love with a mannequin. Should I say anything?

At that moment, a middle-aged woman stepped from behind the mannequin, blushing furiously.

The man beamed. “There you go. You don’t need to be shy.”

 


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