"TALES FROM THE ASHES ARCHIVES"

Volume One...Issue Six...August 1, 2000

Published by "The Wizard of Odd"

-FOR A LOOK AT MODERN FAMILY VALUES!-

(-All items are the sole property of Wayne Brown. Use of my properties without my express written consent, is against the law-)

"NAVIGATION BUTTONS"

POETRY..... GAMES..… SPONSORS..... COPYRIGHT INDICIA

"WHERE'S DADDY?"

by Wayne Brown March 1983

Sandra Bellows, a pretty and petite, young housewife and mother, stood industriously by the kitchen sink, rinsing a squeaky clean plate and humming a particularly popular melody to herself. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window above the sink and glistened in her long and silky, blonde hair. She set the plate in the waiting dish rack and reached back into the soapy water for another. As she scrubbed the plate with practiced hands, she heard the patter of little feet crossing the linoleum behind her. She instantly recognized the steps as those of her daughter Kitty's.

"Hi, Mommy! Can I have a cookie?"

Sandra turned and looked down at her six-year old. Kitty looked up at her with expectant, precocious eyes. Her long, blonde hair was separated into braids, although one of them had begun to unravel. She clutched her rag doll, "Linda" behind her back and smiled eagerly at her mother.

"Well..." Sandra faked a frown to tease the little girl.

"Oh please Mommy!...I'll even give you a kiss!"

"Well...I suppose it would be all right...for a kiss!" She reached out her arms and bent down to grasp her little girl.

"Uh-uh! Not without my cookie first! Kitty was equally adept at teasing her mother.

"Ho-ho, you sure do drive a hard bargain!" She smiled as she went for the cookie jar, and got Kitty a Pecan Sandi. She handed the child the treat and received the kiss in return. The girl began to nibble on the edge of the cookie.

"Mommy...?"

"Yes, Darling?" Sandra had turned back to the chore of dish washing.

"Are you and Daddy still fighting?" She looked up with a hint of sadness.

"No, Sweetie...It's all over now." Sandra had tried to forget their fight last night. She and Bob had really gotten into it. Kitty had gotten terribly upset and had run into her room crying. She had fallen asleep and hadn't gotten out of bed until morning.

"Do you love Daddy?"

"Of course, I do..." She thought that was a strange question, even from a six-year old.

"If you love Daddy, how come you're always fighting so?"

"Kitty...I do love Daddy and I don't think we fight all that much."

"Oh...Where is Daddy?" She ate the last bit of cookie and wiped her hands on her dress.

"He's downstairs in his shop, Honey."

"He's always down there. What's he doing anyway?" She worked a frown into her face.

"You know how it is,...Every Saturday, Daddy likes to work on his stuff." She wiped her hands on a dish towel as she talked to her little girl.

"I wish he'd come up and play with me...he's always too busy." She pouted and hung her head.

"Now Kitty, I'm sure that Daddy has something important to do, or he wouldn't stay down there. Now, I want you to promise me that you'll leave him alone and stop pouting, or I'm going to have to put you down for a nap, okay?"

"Okay..." She shuffled slowly out of the kitchen, dragging her head, her doll, and her spirits.

After Kitty disappeared into the living room, Sandra walked to the cellar door and carefully closing, and locking it behind her, she descended the steep, narrow stairs.

Kitty spent the afternoon playing with her dolls and her doll-sized kitchen. She had one imaginary tea party after another, carefully nurturing her dolls by teaching them table manners and cleaning up after them. She did not hear her mother return upstairs, or begin the preparations for dinner. She had been so engrossed in her own little world, that when Sandra finally called her to dinner, she was amazed at how quickly time had fled.

She ran to the bathroom and washed her hands in the sink. When she went to dry her hands, she discovered that Daddy must be upstairs, because the towel was dirty and wet. She ran to the kitchen expecting to give him a big kiss, and get one in return, only to find to her disappointment that his chair was empty.

"Where's Daddy?" She looked to her mother dejectedly.

"Oh, he's still downstairs, Honey."

"Isn't he going to eat with us?" She sat in her chair, built especially for her so that she could reach the table.

"No, Sweetheart. He said he's got to much to do. He said he'd see you later. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold." Sandra then picked up her fork and began to pick at her food.

"But Mommy...? Whose gonna cut my meat?" Kitty had the smallest of tears welling in her sparkling blue eyes.

"Oh!...I'll take care of that!" She took Kitty's plate and diced the medium-rare roast beef into manageable tidbits, with an inadequate butter knife.

Kitty looked at her mother in puzzlement and then slowly and sadly began to eat her meal.

After they had eaten, Sandra cleaned up the dishes and put away the food, while Kitty retired to the living room to watch the television. When Sandra had finished with her chores, she once again went downstairs, this time forgetting to latch the cellar door. Kitty sat quietly, engrossed in cartoons, until she was interrupted by the telephone.

Kitty knew that she was not allowed to answer the phone, and she also knew that a phone call was usually something very important. She rushed to the kitchen to get her mother. Not finding her there, she then rushed through the rest of the house calling for her. The phone continued to ring and still she could not find anyone to answer it. Finally, she picked up the receiver.

"Hello...who is it?" She queried nervously.

"Hello, this is Brenda Davidson. I was told I could reach Mr. Robert Bellows here...?" Kitty thought the lady had a nice voice.

"Oh!...You must mean my Daddy!!!" She answered proudly.

"Eh, yes...could I speak with him please?"

"Yup!...I'll go get him!" Kitty was ecstatic. This was he excuse she needed to go and see her Daddy. She dropped the receiver on the end table and ran for the cellar door. She found it was unlocked, so she knew it was alright to go downstairs. As she bounded down the short flight, she called...

"Daddy! Daddy!...There's someone on the phone!" As she reached the last step, she could see into the work shop. Her mother was standing there with a shovel, digging a large hole in the floor. Her hands were covered with the dirt, and her hair was disheveled. She had the radio on too loud, and couldn't hear her little girls' cries.

As Kitty raced through the door of the workshop, she saw her Daddy. She screamed and stared in utter disbelief at her mother. Robert Bellows lay on his back against the far concrete wall of the shop, with an assortment of kitchen knives sticking from his bloody chest at various angles. His eyes were frozen in terror and death. The blood had dried and blackened around the multiple wounds and he wore the same clothing he had worn, when last she had seen him, during the previous night's fight.

Kitty looked in horror at her mother who continued to shovel at the hole. Finally, she stopped digging and looked at Kitty.

"There! That seems about right. What do you think, Sweetheart? Do you think Daddy will like it? Give your Daddy a kiss. He's being a good boy now! He promised me that he wouldn't fight with me anymore! Now, isn't that nice?" She smiled madly at the little girl and held out her hand to her.

"Now, why don't we go upstairs and have some cookies!"

-The End-

(I have made some minor grammatical changes to the original MS. -Wayne Brown)

BACK TO THE TOP

"CURIOUSER & CURIOUSER"

by Wayne Brown...January 1986

He stared quizzically at the dead rat, it's feeble backbone crushed by the heavy, bronzed spring that had made up the trap. He turned the once lively rodent from side-to-side, studying the rotting form. This lower form of life, so stupid and pathetic in its singular quest for survival...Could the search for food be his only motivation for living?

He wondered at its lack of intelligence. He wondered how such an insignificant creature had been able to withstand the rigors of evolution for millions of years, and still be nothing more than...this. Surely, rats must possess some capacity for thought! Even this vile carcass must have at one time questioned its existence. He wondered if the rat had possessed a soul, and if its essence now pranced gaily through heavenly sewers teeming with rich compost and a never-ending supply of gourmet garbage. Of course, he knew that to be impossible. He had taken his schooling seriously, and his teachers had told him of the Supreme Being and how he had been created in God's image, and that God had created all of the other animals to keep him company. Still...

Why couldn't the rat have had the capacity to wonder and question even as he himself did now? Had the rat known love?...Did he care about his past?...Could he speculate about his future?...Did rats possess curiosity?...

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar and shrill voice...

"George,...George...It's time for din-din!"

Oh well, he could ponder all of this later. Hunger had invaded his reverie. While running for the door to gain his repast, one last thought crossed his mind.

"Hell! What's the matter with me?...Other forms of life possessing souls, indeed! The idea was preposterous! Delusions from too much catnip!

Leaping through the open kitchen door, he began to purr. He licked his paws carefully, before touching the proffered food. He looked up at the human female and thought again...

"Hmmmph, ridiculous!"

-The End-

(I have made some minor grammatical changes to the original MS. -Wayne Brown)