Three Short Stories
Flash Fiction
I. Jeff Bezos
Jeff Bezos was not born super-rich. Struggling as an impoverished teenager in Houston, he took a number of menial jobs to pay for his education. One of them was working in a thrift shop.
Like most of these, it was stocked with items donated by people who were getting rid of old possessions they no longer wanted.
One of Jeff’s jobs was sorting out these articles, books, crockery, electricals etc, into various categories, and sometimes discarding those unlikely to find a buyer.
A co-worker had put some books in the Trash Basket, and Jeff picked one up: The Amazon Book of Crossword Puzzles. He saw that although it was in good shape, every single puzzle had been completed. He looked at it for no more than five seconds, and put it in the $1 pile. The co-worker shook her head. Who’s gonna buy this? she asked. Jeff smiled. On a strip from the sticky paper pad, he wrote: IDEAL FOR YOUR COFFEE TABLE, IMPRESS YOUR VISITORS, and pasted it on the cover.
It was sold five minutes after it was put on the shelves.
II. The Long and the Short of it
Although he was never married, he always thought of himself as a widower. From the age of sixteen he had yearned for a loving girl friend. He accepted that he was no looker, and knew that short and plump wasn’t what girls were after. At school he was given the nickname of The Jockey because of his size. On top of everything, he blinked and had a stutter. When he moved to London, his Scouse accent did not strike him as an asset. So he had always aimed low. His only expectation was that whoever took his bait must not tower over him. Which left him a very small field.
His job was at the Wellesley Rd Home Office Department in Croydon, and he rented a bedsit near Streatham Commons. He worked with a great number of female colleagues, but no one would give him the time of the day. He did not remember even once having a conversation with a girl ever, who indicated the mildest interest in him.
Not until he went into the Westminster Bank opposite the Commons to open a bank account. Her name was on her tag: Yvonne R. Seated on a tall stool behind her teller’s window, she beamed the most welcoming smile at him, that had ever fallen on him. Oh you’re a Scouse, she said the moment he opened his mouth, I love the music in your speech.
He was smitten. Madly, deeply, irrevocably. It had been a long wait, but what a catch. Next time he went in there, she greeted him like an old friend, asked about his accommodation. Did he invite anybody? Had he found a girl-friend yet? Oh, you’ll have no trouble, she assured him. He knew that the fruit was ready for the plucking, but he could not reach out. She surprised him by announcing that she was planning to catch the game at Selhurst Park. Was he interested in football? And he had thought that Everton would not mind shared allegiance with Crystal Palace. But he was not ready to ask her out. A week later _ yes he found a pretext for popping in the bank at least once a week_ she asked if he ever went to the West End. Perhaps grab a Wimpy and catch a film at the Odeon in Leicester Square. All he could say was that it was something he m-m-might do s-some day. We could go together, she said. He could not believe he heard right. He started blinking alarmingly.
What the f- are you waiting for? He asked himself all night long that night. Why won’t she stand? he said aloud. If she is even half an inch shorter than me, I’ll ask her out. I’ll take her to the poshest restaurant in Piccadilly, and I’ll pay any price for two tickets of The Mousetrap. But why won’t she stand up so I can check.
She never stood up.
III. The Centenarian
Thank you, thank you, dear friends. Yes it’s true I never dreamt that I’d live to be a hundred. I am most grateful to you for all the trouble_ and love_ you put in to make this such a momentous event.
I’ll let you into a secret. After I retired, I was beset by a number of health issues. I rarely had a good night’s sleep, my digestive system was shot, I couldn’t walk five minutes without becoming breathless. I kept forgetting common words, did scary things like putting keys in the fridge. Going into a room to fetch something and forgetting what it was when I got there.
But the worst thing was that my bowel movements had gone haywire. I couldn’t manage without regular intakes of laxatives, natural or pharmaceutical. I beg your pardon for being crude, but what the hell! I would spend ten fifteen minutes on the toilet seat, strain myself with next to nothing coming out at the other end.
As a result, the whole day I’d feel glum and depressed, often seeming to need the toilet, but it was always unproductive. Dieticians recommended fibres, bran, beans, pulses, fruits, prunes. Hardly any joy. Doctors prescribed sennokot, bisocodyl and similar malarkey … Lots of grunts, but hardly more than a few goat’s pellets. And gas.
It was doubtless what caused all my other problems. Insomnia worst of all. You are depressed and seek solace in sleep, but when you do nod off, you end up with nightmares. I was eating badly, always had indigestion, my breath stank, I always had a sour taste in my mouth. Was prey to a number of ailments, from palpitations to perpetual fatigue. I had migraine attacks on a regular basis, and as you know there is next to nothing you can do about that. I was drinking too much, smoking more than ever. My blood pressure kept rising. I gave myself a couple of years, and given my quality of life, this did not alarm me.
Then one day, I caught a new feature in the dailies. The sudoku. You might know that for years I’ve been read the papers crouched on the toilet seat.
The first time, I was twenty-five minutes struggling with it, but solve it, I did. And I was so engrossed in it, I did not realise I had taken so long, but having retired, it mattered not a bit. Oh, the most interesting bit was that I had not heard a few plops, as without realising it my bowels had moved as in the old days.
The relief I experienced that day was incredible. I felt light, I mowed the lawn, and in the afternoon, as it was a warm and sunny day, I had a little snooze in the garden. I had a sound night’s sleep for the first time in three years.
I found that a good night’s sleep was instrumental in tempering my depression. Feeling less depressed, I enjoyed my food more, with my digestive system improving. I took more exercise, felt I didn’t need to drink so much.
My bowels were moving like when I was a teenager. In fact I felt a whole lot younger. Led a more active life, and outlived the two more years I had given myself when I reached sixty.
I raise my glass to Sudoku.
