[stylist] Comments on Quick-bits- changes prompt

Fri Jan 13 22:38:15 UTC 2012

Thanks Bridgit. I dont' often get opportunity to 
just sit with a blank document and see what comes 
out  anymore. Always fun though.

Brad

On 1/13/2012  02:55 PM Bridgit Pollpeter said...
>Brad,
>
>I honestly think this is some of the best writing you've put on Stylist.
>It's very descriptive especially in the beginning, and I like the
>intrigue. Very creative! I give you a ton of points for creativity and
>thinking outside the box, smile. You really illustrated things well
>
>Sincerely,
>Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
>Read my blog at:
>http://blogs.livewellnebraska.com/author/bpollpeter/
>
>"History is not what happened; history is what was written down."
>The Expected One- Kathleen McGowan
>
>Message: 14
>Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2012 21:59:18 -0600
>From: Brad Duns? <lists at braddunsemusic.com>
>To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>Subject: [stylist] Quick bit/Re:  Changes writing prompt
>Message-ID: <7.0.1.0.2.20120112210936.0572d8b0 at braddunsemusic.com>
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"; format=flowed
>
>
>Very off cuff draft. Sort of "sentence to
>sentence where do I go from this one" kind of thing. haha
>. More of an idea flush than proper grammar and
>etc. as there were some format/font issues I ran into.
>
>Pete Wilkerson, a middle-aged, slightly graying,
>business cut, Robin-egg blue collar worker, stood
>at the early morning gas pump with stiffened arms
>plunged into the pockets of his black Columbia
>ski jacket zipped to the neck. The near zero
>temperatures on this frigid January morning left
>his freshly groomed mustache and beard fair game
>for the tiny droplets of moisture bursting from
>his mouth to attach themselves, adding a little
>extra touch of salt to his peppered whiskers,
>temporary as it might be. The frigid gas pump
>churned out a labored noise sounding a bit like
>negach ? ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ?
>Negach ?. He daydreamed how the pump almost
>sounded like it was chanting to him in a frigid
>rhythmic pain of complaint as it creaked gas from its belly into his
>truck.
>
>
>
>Pete?s job for the last ten years was working as
>an electrician at the local campus in Superior,
>Wisconsin. Graduating as an Electrical Engineer
>after attending night classes for the past
>8-years at the local university, he finally felt
>like he was coming into his own now working as a
>part-timer at the local power plant. That?s why
>he considered himself as Robin-egg blue collar. A
>little bit engineer, a little bit electrician ?
>not quite white, not quite blue.
>
>
>
>With shoulders hunched as much as he could to
>cover the bare skin of his neck, blowing into his
>cupped hands, giving a slight palm to
>back-of-hand circular rub, like you do when
>washing your hands, he began to bounce up and
>down on his toes trying to work up just a little
>heat while his thirsty super-cab Ford pick-up
>drank in dual tanks of go-go juice and the pump
>continued its complaint, Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ?
>Negach ?.
>
>
>
>Hanging up the nozzle, snatching his credit card
>out of the pump, and pushing the receipt button
>gave an Out of paper message. ?Yeah right,? he
>muttered under his breath, ?like I believe you
>guys actually put paper inn those things in this
>weather. And the little extra crap people buy
>once they get in your store looking for their
>receipt doesn?t hurt either does it fellas??
>
>
>
>Flipping the tank-fill door shut on his truck he
>headed for the store to get his receipt. Jumping
>up onto the pump island on his way inside, he
>stopped with a shiver, but not from the cold
>weather this time.  He couldn?t help but feel
>that same feeling he?s had on-and-off all week.
>Almost like he was being watched. Taking a quick
>look over his shoulders walking as he continued
>hesitantly , and yet another quick  scan around
>the parking lot as he  reached for the door,
>proved nothing abnormal. Still, he couldn?t help but feel something was
>off.
>
>
>
>Sometimes the feeling was quite strong, and other
>times just an inkling of a feeling. Sort of like
>when you?re camping out doors and you find a
>spider on the sleeve of your sweat-shirt, you
>flick it off in a reflex and shudder your
>shoulders creepily, and a minute later you swore
>you felt one under your shirt just a little
>trickle down the skin of your shoulder blade, but
>a shoulder wince and shirt adjustment, you
>realize it?s just a wrinkle in your sweat-shirt.
>That?s how it was with this feeling of being
>watched, or whatever it was well, he wasn?t sure
>exactly what it was he felt for sure.
>
>
>
>Standing in line a few minutes, somewhat troubled
>by this feeling, he suddenly chuckled to himself
>as he stared at his hands. A king size Snicker
>bar in one hand and a five-dollar bill in the
>other. Smiling to himself he thought, ?Ok boys, you got me ? this time.?
>
>
>
>Paying for his stick of chocolate bliss, he
>refused the bag, dropped the bar in his chest
>pocket, shoved two dollar bills, the gas receipt,
>and some coin into his left Levi pocket, and headed for the truck.
>
>
>
>Reaching for the handle of his pick-up door, he
>stopped for a moment. Again, something seemed
>off, He could hear one of the pumps on the island
>with its Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ?
>Negach ? Negach ?, but as he glanced over, he
>realized there was no one at the pumps; he was
>all alone at the island. Turning his broad
>shoulders towards the rear of the truck with his
>head slightly cocked forward to take a better
>listen. He got half way to the tank fill of his
>truck and the noise stopped with a clunk. He
>stood there a moment listening but the pump held
>its silence. Turning back for the driver?s door
>he took a quick squint towards the station and
>realized the attendant had been staring at him.
>He stood there a second looking at the
>20-something man, ?boy really? he thought, ?just
>passed his last crop of zits,? and the man began
>to smile. But not like an ?Oh did you drop your
>keys back there and you found them? kind of
>smile, it was more like a, ?you can?t see me but
>I know something about you? smile. Still staring
>at Pete with an odd grin, the attendant picked up
>the phone next to him, never taking his eyes off
>Pete, lifted the phone to his ear, and with a
>trance-like beam into Pete?s eyes from 30-feet
>away. started talking to the caller.
>
>
>
>Pete smiled back as if a ?hey, it?s all good
>dude,? kind of smile and headed for his truck.
>Now he really felt like he was being watched.
>?Little creep,? he muttered as he hopped in his
>truck. Turning the key, the trucks idiot lights
>and radio came on; you know the multiple red
>warning lights that come on when hitting the
>ignition? But the truck didn?t turn over. Holding
>the key all the way over for a full ten-seconds,
>suddenly the truck gave a, buzz sound, a quick
>little clunk, and then it fired over. ?I know
>Hun,? he said, ?I hate this cold weather too?. He
>dropped the shift into drive and headed towards
>the street. In the frozen exhaust from Pete?s
>truck, pump #2 began its Negach ? Negach ? Negach
>? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? As he drove off.
>
>
>
>After putting in a half day at campus and the
>other half at the power plant office, Pete pulled
>in the garage, hit the automatic door opener to
>shut the overhead door, and walked into the house
>where he was greeted with a gush of pleasant warm
>air and the smell of fresh cheese-garlic bread in
>the oven next to a pan of lasagna. His wife Trudy
>was at the kitchen counter fixing smoothie
>desserts as he leaned over and dove his cold face in the nape of her
>neck.
>
>
>
>?Oh, you?re cold,? she whimpered  lifting her shoulders to lock him out.
>
>
>
>Kissing her quick on the cheek and tossing his
>keys on the counter top as he walked taking off
>his jacket, he asked her ?So, how was your day??
>
>   she began to tell him ?Oh, Mackenzie was up to
>her old tricks again, getting everyone  a good
>bout of the grumps, but she?ll ?? she stopped
>when she realized he wasn?t even in the room now.
>
>
>
>Realizing she stopped talking,  Pete yelled, Oh.
>Sorry Hun, I?ll be right there.?
>
>
>
>Pete hung up his jacket in his office closet.
>Their kids Amber and Michael were out on their
>own now and their bedrooms now became his and her
>offices. Pete reached in his front left pocket of
>his jeans, taking out the money to put in his
>glass jar, his vacation stash he called it, and
>stopped to remove a sheet metal screw he knew was
>in with the coin. He began to get that damned
>feeling again, like something was watching him or
>well he just couldn?t say what the feeling was
>like something was unsettled. As he fingered
>through the coin for the sheet metal screw, he
>noticed one of the quarters he?d gotten from the
>gas station attendant that morning. Pete looked
>at it with a peculiar interest. He flipped it
>over and back again and all seemed right, but
>then he noticed the date. Staring at it he wasn?t
>sure what to think of it. The date on the coin
>was 2014, but today was only January 13, Friday
>actually, January 13, 2012. A whole two years
>before any 2014 coin would be circulated and
>6-months at least before they?d even start to bee
>minted. But it was real, the markings, the
>president, the tails and knurling on its edge
>were all normal. He palmed that one in his right
>hand and fingered the other coins. He stood open
>mouthed. All the coin in his pocket were dated
>2014. The two bills he?d gotten though, they were
>dated 2001 and 2005. He wasn?t sure what that
>meant so tossed them aside. He set the coin down
>on the corner of his desk, grabbed the huge glass
>jug that held an inch of various coin since just
>before Christmas when he cashed in the previous
>year?s loot. Pouring out a few coins he   nearly
>dropped the jug. Every single coin he poured out
>was dated 2014. But the dollars that were stuffed
>in there, they were all various odd dates, all
>past dates he noted. Only the coin was dated two years from this year.
>
>
>
>He recalled the smug smirk on that pimply
>attendant?s face this morning at the gas station
>before he got in his truck. And that pump with
>its Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ? Negach ?
>Negach ?. When just before he saw the attendant
>staring at him through the window. That pump,
>with that almost chant. It sounded like it was
>saying Negach ?, he thought to himself. He heard
>his wife call out that it was almost time to eat.
>
>
>
>?I?ll be right there Hun!? he yelled from his office.
>
>
>
>He stood there with a finger rubbing over the
>coin, images of that attendant, and the pump with
>its complaint of cold, Or was it a chant of cold?
>He thought to himself, ?Was it actually saying
>Negach ?? over and over and over? What is a
>Negach ? and what is up with these coins and their date. Why 2014??
>
>
>
>He set the coin down, pulled up his office chair,
>sat down with a pen and paper and wrote out
>phonetically what sound or word or chant he
>thought the pump had sounded out. Negach ?
>
>
>
>Spelling It out he was perplexed, and yet
>something seemed oddly familiar about it. Staring
>at it he got an idea; he grabbed his pen and
>began writing more. Stopping his pen, his cheeks
>nearly to the corners of his mouth in disbelief,
>he looked at his paper, looked over at the coin
>lying on his desk, all dated 2014. His face turned fish-belly white.
>
>
>
>Writers note: *I had to use that one Donna. big laugh*
>
>
>
>He looked to the coin ? and back to the paper,
>then back to the coin, or more appropriately, the
>change. That?s what we call loose coin isn?t it?
>he asked himself.  He stared down at his paper that had the below words
>on it:
>
>
>
>Negach
>
>Enach
>
>Angech
>
>Chenga
>
>Change
>
>
>
>Is that what the pump at the gas station was
>chanting? Change ? change ? change ? change? And
>all these coins, all this change dated 2014, what
>does that mean? Is something going to happen to me in 2014?
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>Brad Duns?
>
>
>_______________________________________________
>Writers Division web site:
>http://www.nfb-writers-division.net <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
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Brad Dunsé

"You become that to which you are most exposed." --Unknown

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