Tales for Sale Ii

By Matthew F. O'Malley

From young Leonard and his pals attempts to free the genie (from Leonards dads ashes urn), to Hans Zoff and Bea Awares unexpected meeting and adventure in the Laundromat, to the marital strife of the Amours and who is going to get who first Tales for Sale II is a collection of twenty-one eclectic and accessible short stories for those who have little time to read.

From squabbling married astronauts piloting a new ark to a new Earth, to Als decision to join and later rat out the Family. From a serial killer who must decide if he should kill his own son to ensure his own safety, to Luke N. Goodehitmantrapped by his own portrait. From young Clark Barrs unexpected delivery of his new superhero suit, to the vampirous fate that befalls Mildred because she gets on the wrong busAll the tales within this book place their protagonists at the crossroads of choices.

In Tales for Sale II, Matthew OMalley delivers a compelling collection that runs the gamut of emotions from uplifting and sad to scary and whimsical. Get ready for the unusual!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477282045

Book preview

PRIMORDIAL DREAMS

This is it? Ginger’s roommate frowned as he looked at the petite Edwardian building containing window displays of colorful teapots, trays, cups, and saucers.

Yup. We’re here, Ginger replied cheerfully from the passenger side of the car.

Looks like crap, he said giving a disgusted look. Well, let’s get this over with.

As Ginger watched from inside of the car, her roommate climbed out and headed for the door of the teahouse. He seemed to revel in his size; walking with his shoulders back, arms cocked slightly out as if he was holding the handlebars of an invisible motorcycle. When he reached the door of the teahouse he called out, You coming?

Ginger tried to exit the car but a Catahua tree blocked her egress and she had to squeeze herself out, which not only erased her smile but also any doubts she had of her current plans. Inside the teahouse, Ginger followed the hostess and her roommate as he maneuvered his barrel-shaped body around the room until he found the table that suited him. Ginger placed an order as her roommate dragged an extra chair over from a nearby table. He removed the hat that covered his apish dome and placed it, with his coat, upon the chair he had pulled to the table.

Ginger had convinced her roommate to join her on this little journey to the far-flung town of Bolinas through subtle manipulation. She knew what he expected if he acquiesced to treating her like a woman once in a blue moon; the inevitable demand of tit for tat, something she was sure she’d avoid this afternoon.

She slouched forward in her chair, her arms hanging to her sides below her knees as she prepared for what she often considered to be worse than sex with her roommate, his talking. Talking, talking, and more talking. He began with a story he had told her yesterday. It was the same story he told her a week before and several more times before that. And he did this all the time; the rehashing of a story ad nauseam. Early on in their relationship, it brought Ginger to the realization that either he was stupid or he just liked hearing his head rattle. His endless monologues gave her heartburn and a nervous twitch that caused her to pound her chest to relieve the heartburn, and to scratch at the itchy spot that developed in her armpits.

And the way he told stories was like the way he had sex; selfishly, relentless, and self-indulgently, whereas she was not allowed to get a single word in edgewise. He would not allow her the satisfaction—that was, until she learned a trick, a way to get him to momentarily pull back from his onslaught of repetitive storytelling.

The trick Ginger learned early on was to get him to eat, which he performed extremely well in a primordial sort of way; mouth open, smacking and slurping all the while. As he ate with his head inches from his plate, he would sometimes gasp for air just to say a few words but then it was back to feasting upon whatever was in front of him. Once his plate was cleared of food of any sort, he would take a finger to wipe away excess residue from his trough and clean his finger pornographically.

A multi-tiered, pyramid-shaped tray carrying scones, small sandwiches, cakes, berries, and petit fours was brought to their table and Ginger’s roommate cried, That’s it? His face resembled that of a young boy who just saw his dog run over by a truck. Ginger nodded and he quickly grabbed at the tray, snatching handfuls of items and piling them high on his tiny plate.

Ginger had taken her roommate to this teahouse for its location and to throw him slightly off-guard, as she hoped the atmosphere of the place might soothe the savage beast enough that he could be caught unawares. It was just a matter of time before she could make her move and until then, she would just continue sitting there, feeling like a captive animal stuck watching a freak show. Ginger furrowed her brow as she pinched, picked, and tasted a doorstop-shaped scone.

Her roommate emptied the tray and ordered a replacement and a pot of coffee before announcing, I gotta take a shit. He stood and added, And after this, maybe outside, you and I can drive somewhere and you know what they say . . . Ginger settles the stomach. He laughed at his old joke, which Ginger heard so many times before.

As soon as he left the room, Ginger saw herself reaching into his coat pocket and taking his wallet and car keys. She then took his hat and ran from the teahouse to jump and swing from a branch of the Catahua tree before letting out a hoot and landing in the street near the driver side of his car. She unlocked the car and with the hand that still held her roommate’s hat, she curled her arm and quickly extended it as if she was going to throw a Frisbee.

But Ginger didn’t release the hat. Instead, she flicked it into the air to catch it upon her head. She then pushed it back with her index finger and brought her finger down to her mouth and blew, as if cooling a smoking gun.

Bolinas was far from the city and with no regular bus, boat, or taxi transportation back, it would be hours, Ginger thought, if not days, before he was able to make it to their apartment and by then she would be gone and have him out of her life forever. She would just keep his cherished hat as a memento to remember what