Three Scoops is a Blast! Read online

  “THREE SCOOPS”

  IS A BLAST

  Alex Carrick

  Copyright © Alex Carrick 2010

  Praise for “Two Scoops” Is Just Right

  5 Stars… A choice pick for short fiction fans. ~ Midwest Book Reviews.

  Really funny… If you want a good laugh (and who doesn't) you MUST pick this book up. MUST. ~ The Book Journal

  A fun read… If you want a good laugh buy this book, read this book, then buy one for a friend. ~ Barbara Kent, Success Books

  Acclaim for “Thee Scoops” Is A Blast!

  “Three Scoops” Is A Blast! (sequel to “Two Scoops”) contains “The Size of the Skip”, an honorable-mention recipient in the 2010 Lorian Hemingway Short Story Competition.

  “Three Scoops”

  Is A Blast

  36 original short stories

  Alex Carrick

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2010 Alex Carrick

  ISBN: 1-4528-6255-9

  EAN 13: 9781452862552

  This e-book is intended for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To my wife, Donna. The two of us egg each other on in the writing game.

  And to our children, Tom, Ted and Tammy-Li.

  They make our lives delicious scrambled eggs.

  Foreword

  In early 2008, I was asked by my employer to start writing an economics blog. I approached this with considerable trepidation, worrying about whether I would have enough material and if I could do it justice. I quickly found I had no shortage of ideas and that I rather enjoyed the experience.

  So much, in fact, I began to branch out with humorous lifestyle material I was composing on the weekends and at night, just for fun. I posted these pieces on my personal blog site, “www.alexcarrick.com”, then published an anthology in my first book, “Two Scoops” Is Just Right.

  While “Three Scoops” Is A Blast! does contain some stories about the family and the modern work environment, it branches off into somewhat longer fictional pieces than appeared in Two Scoops. These latter tales wander through time and space or consist of made-up conversations that take amusing, ironic or unexpected turns.

  It’s been an enjoyable ride trailing my characters to see where they would lead me. Here’s hoping you enjoy the journey as well.

  Alex Carrick

  Contents

  (1) The Madame Lazonga Defense

  (2) Life is Sweet Again on the Planet Lollipop

  (3) Obamacare and Harry Potter

  (4) Disney Goes After a Bigger Fish than Marvel

  (5) My Wife and I Argue over our New i-Phone

  (6) No Problem, Excuse Me and the Limits of Civility

  (7) The Seagull Poet of Butter Bay

  (8) Real Estate Purgatory

  (9) I Got Robbed by a Liquor Store

  (10) The CAB Nations and their Rogue Currency

  (11) The Devil Pulls a Fast One

  (12) Giving a Finger to the Moon

  (13) Witness to a Backyard Execution

  (14) So You Think You Know Flop Sweat

  (15) The Weatherman, the Economist and the Gypsy Lady

  (16) The Red-Suit Mistletoe Initiative

  (17) Pedro Martinez’ Incredible String of Good Luck

  (18) The Freeze Dried Monster on the Skyway

  (19) Lenny and Keith Flounder in the Shallow End

  (20) The Mechanized Sorting Day of the Dead

  (21) Catching Up on the Not So Local News (a.k.a. Burying Barry in Barrie)

  (22) The Wizard and the Rose

  (23) Herb Green discusses his Finances in Four-letter Words

  (24) A Curious Case of Bottled-up Passion

  (25) Ms. Phitts and Mr. Gatheral Spar Two Rounds

  (26) Dancing the Family Man Shuffle

  (27) An Imaginary Friend of an Imaginary Friend of Mine

  (28) The Personal Injury Attorneys to the Stars

  (29) Chasing a Murderer into Polar Bear Country

  (30) One Thousand Years of Baked Goods

  (31) Fuzzy on the Details

  (32) The Size of the Skip

  (33) Queen’s Jester to King’s Betterment

  (34) One Shot in the Hot Seat

  (35) That Would Be Naïve of Me

  (36) Forever Running Late

  The Madame Lazonga Defense

  August 17, 2009

  It was medieval times in Merry Olde England and tales of knights and dragons, sorcery and witchcraft still held sway over the land. Superstition was rampant and those who could foretell the future were held in high esteem. Revered for being at the top of her profession was Madame Lazonga, a woman who had grown wealthy through necromancy on behalf of the common folk.

  Madame Lazonga’s abilities came in visionary snatches from which she was able to deduce logical outcomes. In one such trance, she even foresaw her own untimely end. She would meet a violent death at the hands of a vicious murderer. This made her more cautious in her everyday dealings. She became overly protective of her private life and turned miserly to a fault. She wouldn’t share her riches with anyone, not even her only child, Angelina.

  Angelina, in the full bloom of youth, was a stunner. She had russet-coloured hair down past her shoulders, hazel-flecked sparkling eyes and a curvaceous frame that brought many men to kneel at her altar. Unbeknownst to most, however, her sexiest feature was her brain. Also a secret to the world at large was the fact that Angelina had a lover among the nobility, Lord Flatley.

  Lord Flatley was the bachelor scion of a once-noble family that fell out of favor with the king and was suffering the consequences. Dashing in appearance, athletic in aspect, but limited in intellect, he was flat broke, with wants beyond his means. Angelina was crazy in love with him.

  Angelina harbored hopes for their relationship until one fateful day in the town square marketplace. For the first time ever, Lord Flatley approached Angelina and her mother in a public place. Madame Lazonga spotted him first. “That’s the man! There he is! He’s the one who’s going to murder me!” she cried out. An unseemly commotion ensued. The local citizens and a couple of soldiers descended on Lord Flatley and escorted him away. Angelina was aghast.

  From then on, Madame Lazonga told anyone who would listen about Lord Flatley’s connection to her dream. This put a serious crimp in Angelina and Lord Flatley’s plans for their relationship. When next they met clandestinely, Angelina whispered her instructions in Lord Flatley’s ear.

  The foregoing is background and prelude to a discussion before a regional magistrate one fine spring day, as the accused was brought forward to explain what happened to the victim.

  MAGISTRATE: Would you please tell me how it is you come to be standing before me today, Lord Flatley, in the matter of the notorious demise of Madame Lazonga?

  LORD FLATLEY: Gladly, your honor. This is a situation that has been developing for some time. Madame Lazonga apparently had a premonition she would be murdered and, the first time she saw me, she cried out to all around her that I was the man she saw in her vision.

  MAGISTRATE: How many times did you actually encounter her?

  LORD FLATLEY: Three times in all. Twice before yesterday. The first time, after she called out her accusation, I was taken into custody by local authorities and questioned about my intentions. When it was established that I had never before met the woman, I was released without trouble.

  MAGISTRATE: And the next time?

  LORD FLATLEY: On the second occasion, the woman again cried o
ut that I would be her murderer. Again I was surrounded and taken away for interrogation. I could no longer say I knew not the woman. I had quite a bit more difficulty securing my release. Madame Lazonga is held in high regard in these parts. After my second incarceration, I did a great deal of thinking.

  MAGISTRATE: And then you saw her again yesterday in the crowd at the marketplace?

  LORD FLATLEY: That is correct. But this time I walked directly up to her and killed her. In fact, I made quite sure she was dead. I strangled her, then stabbed her through the heart and finally held her head under water for a considerable period of time, at the horse-drinking trough. It went exactly according to plan. Everyone else was too stunned to react until it was over.

  MAGISTRATE: Why did you do that sir?

  LORD FLATLEY: Because I had done my research. Madame Lazonga was known to be a rich older woman. Someone was bound to rob and kill her someday. It was unlikely to be obvious who that person was and so I would be saddled with the crime. Then I would be hung or burned at the stake. Therefore, I decided to kill her myself in front of everyone, in self-defense.

  MAGISTRATE: What an extraordinary notion. Is there more to your story?

  LORD FLATLEY: Yes indeed, your honor. Madame Lazonga has never been known to be wrong in one of her predictions. My course of action was pre-determined. I had no option but to do her in. The integrity of my resolve can be seen in the fact that I made no attempt to rob her of her jewellery. That, apparently, was her one vanity. In my mind, it was justifiable homicide.

  MAGISTRATE: That’s your defense? You were powerless to act in any other way? It is your contention this whole case rests on how perfect the victim was in foreseeing the future?

  LORD FLATLEY: Yes, your honor.

  MAGISTRATE: My initial reaction is that you’re presenting me with a barrow-load of nonsense. Nevertheless, you must be one in a million to make such an assertion and then carry through on it. Very well, I’ll consider what you have said. Let’s hear from some other witnesses.

  For the next several hours, peasant after peasant was called before the judge and confirmed how accurate Madame Lazonga was in predicting births, deaths, marriages and the many other life-altering events crucial to the ebb and flow of the village’s survival. Finally, the judge got around to speaking with the victim’s daughter. Like many men before him, he was smitten by her astonishing beauty, but prided himself on being able to maintain a workman-like demeanor.

  MAGISTRATE: This whole case may ultimately rest on the accuracy of your mother’s predictions. Have you ever known her to be wrong, my child?

  ANGELINA: No, absolutely not. That is to say, almost never.

  MAGISTRATE: What do you mean? Explain yourself. This is important.

  ANGELINA: Well there is a matter about which the outcome is still uncertain.

  MAGISTRATE: And what might that be?

  ANGELINA: It’s a personal affair, my lord.

  MAGISTRATE: You must tell me anyway. A man’s life is in the balance.

  ANGELINA: Very well, my lord. My mother foresaw I would meet, marry and make very happy a magistrate before I turned 22 years old.

  MAGISTRATE: I see. And when might that date be?

  ANGELINA: Tomorrow, my lord.

  This brought laughter and good-natured banter from the townspeople who were gathered around to watch the proceedings. Jocular in tone at first, and then more serious, the judge continued.

  MAGISTRATE: Do tell. What an interesting coincidence of timing. And would such a marriage include an old dog like me, hypothetically speaking of course?

  ANGELINA: I don’t see why not, my lord.

  The magistrate was stunned. He had been alone since the death of his wife ten years prior. Angelina was a plum pudding smothered in cream. Myriad pleasurable thoughts spun around in his head. Still, he was a cagey old bird and had his suspicions. He continued with his probing.

  MAGISTRATE: You don’t seem terribly upset about the death of your mother, my dear.

  ANGELINA: It was not unexpected, my lord.

  MAGISTRATE: Yes, that much has been clearly established. Do you know the defendant?

  ANGELINA: No my lord.

  MAGISTRATE: Is there something you would want from me as a wedding present? A pardon, perhaps, for this handsome young lad?

  ANGELINA: No my lord. Only the pleasure of your company.

  MAGISTRATE: And you would consider marrying me?

  ANGELINA: Of course.

  MAGISTRATE: Why, precisely?

  ANGELINA: It would honor my mother’s memory and it would take away any possible stain on her record. Besides, you are a handsome and distinguished-looking older gentleman, my lord.

  MAGISTRATE (unself-consciously rubbing his hands together with glee): Alright then. It seems a number of us are being governed by forces over which we have no control. Release the prisoner. Angelina and I have other matters to attend to.

  Henceforth, in legal circles, the justification for Lord Flatley’s acquittal was credited to the “No Free Will” argument. Courthouse wags dubbed it the Madame Lazonga defense.

  After a tiny bump in the road, ending with the timely death of the magistrate as a result of a too brief interlude of vigorous physical activity, Angelina and Lord Flatley lived happily ever after.

  Life is Sweet Again on the Planet Lollipop

  August 26, 2009

  Life had been sweet on the planet Lollipop. Barney Bracken, a young fortyish married man with children, had been living his life according to five simple rules: 1) don’t become addicted to alcohol; 2) don’t become addicted to mood-altering drugs; 3) have a decent job that pays a good living; 4) cultivate real friends; and 5) do whatever it takes to keep your family speaking with you.

  Over the past year, he had been introduced to Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn. There were other social media sites, but these were his favourites. At first, they made his life even better.

  He loved composing short amusing messages to send out to the world. Something like, “The Chimney Repair and Wildlife Removal company showed up at our party and we don’t have a fireplace. Anybody got bail money?”

  There were the online games. Under trending topics, when he was asked to submit one-letter-off-movie-titles, his offerings were “Paws”, “Goonstruck” and “Curse of the Dummy’s Tomb.” For my-last-tweet-on-earth he went with what Dracula might have said in some confusion and naïve innocence, “So what’s with the wooden stake and crucifix, Herr Helsing?” He cracked himself up and hoped his new buddies shared in the enjoyment.

  His first glimmer something might be going wrong was when he responded, “I absolutely agree, number 3,798” to the statement made by one of his new followers, “I hate it when people are on these sites only to pump up their friend counts.” Then there was the day when he was startled into awareness that he was keypunching on his laptop while sitting on the pot. Submitting messages to social media sites any time of the day or night over his i-phone was becoming a hazard.

  He came to realize he was fixated and obsessed. He was addicted to staying in touch with individuals in far-away places who seemed nice enough but with whom he shared no common background. If he didn’t cut down on his social media connections at work, he was sure to be fired. His contacts with his own family and dear old friends were becoming less and less. He was breaking all five of his rules.

  He wasn’t the only one in trouble. Change was seeping in over the e-wires. Lots of people seemed to be losing control He began to notice that random rants were appearing on walls and message boards. Some individuals with large number counts were even exhorting their followers to gang up against others. Kibitzing and normal kidding around could quickly turn precarious.

  Blocking offensive individuals was one recourse, but clearly a lot of people needed help. What to do? Barney was a serious student of human nature. He swore off computers for a week and gave the matter a great deal of thought. He needed the perspective that came with going “cold turkey.”