Post by solo on Jan 3, 2018 11:50:35 GMT -6
I posted this simple short story on another site and got a somewhat strong reaction. I am just trying out a few things, but wanted to gauge your thoughts on this. Again, it is simple, short and to the point.
Dave Stockton didn’t like either of his two immediate neighbors. The one immediate to his right as he looked out his right was a strange bird indeed. The man was non-descript, average height, average build. His hair was a standard shade of black, his facial features were unremarkable. Whenever they talk, the man never showed any expression. He was neutral. His life was neutral. His garage faced Dave’s house and the only flaw that Dave could see in the man is that he appeared to be a hoarder.
He had an old beat up Suburban that has definitely seen better days. It was a diesel. Who uses diesel these days. And his garage was lined wall to wall with bins. It was odd indeed. The garage itself had two bays. One for the suburban and one for the trailer. No sports equipment, just guns. Dave didn’t like guns and more specifically, he didn’t like the self-important Jerks who tended to own the guns. Oh, and he did see the occasional pieces of camping equipment.
Across the street of his suburban, live oak lined with a perfect canopy, gated community was an older man. He had to have had the most perfect posture he had ever witnessed. He was shorter, probably about five foot eight, his grayish black hair was always cut extremely short. Like one of them Marines short. His yard was always meticulous. As Dave usually slept until lunch everyday, he didn’t know much more about either man except they seemed to be good friends with each other. He just knew that they were always talking about him.
And they were, too. Neither one could believe Dave Stockton, who was in his thirties and still lived in his mother’s basement. They knew that he did some sort of software programming type work from home. But they also knew he stayed up most of the night playing video games. Gunny Sargent Richard Lee, the neighbor across the street often saw the glow of the TV light from the partial basement windows when he would go for his short 7 mile runs each morning at 0500. And Dave’s other neighbor noted this when he would peruse his video surveillance at random times each month in what he knew would be a feeble attempt to establish a routine for one Mr. Stockton.
Dave Stockton was about five foot, ten inches tall and was big. He had to have weighed 300 pounds and had pasty white skin. Dave’s next door neighbor, Ivan Callum, personally weighed odds about the man even waking up each morning. Ivan figured his portly neighbor probably logged a total of about ten yards running distance in his entire life. Ivan simply listed him on his listing of neighbors in the neighborhood as a definite liability should the balloon go up. If he lived, he would be a medical and provision liability. Ivan often wondered if he shouldn’t do that sweet old lady who was that tub of lard’s mother a favor.
Gunny Lee, didn’t think much of Dave either. Fat people got hungry and stayed hungry. That isn’t a good scenario, even in the best of times. And these definitely weren’t the best of times. Gunny felt that the global economy would consume itself any day now. And when that happened, there would be two types of people. The Survivors and the dead.
On the day it all came to a head for the neighborhood, the dollar had imploded a week earlier. The riots had started immediately when the credit card, debit and worse, EBT, no longer worked. A lifetime of total reliance on the government without learning self-sufficiency finally reaped its reward. The riots were vicious and on this day had spilled over into this gated community. The rioters ignored the gate and as they got closer to their particular part of the neighborhood, Ivan had his Suburban hooked up to the trailer. Dave noted all the bins were missing, probably in the trailer he’d guess. What surprised him was that the older man across the street was helping his next door neighbor. The older man’s truck had a camper cover he’d never seen before and it was filled with very well organized boxes. They were working in tandem and they were going somewhere.
“You ready?” Gunny asked Ivan.
“Yep, they are close, let’s go.” Ivan replied.
“What are you guys doing?” Dave lumbered out of the house.
“Time to go. Can’t you see?” Ivan began
“You can’t go and take all that with you! You’ve got to share what you’ve got. I’m hungry.” Dave whined.
Dave’s mother stepped out after Dave. Ivan could tell that she knew. Could tell that she knew they were dead people walking and talking.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” Gunny asked.
“No. I want to come with you.” The lady meekly said.
“Are you ready to leave?” Gunny asked. His sense of duty was overriding his sense of survival. His mental tracking of the door to door firing gave him about ten minutes before all crap hits the fan in their particular part of the world.
“I have to pack some things. It will just take a moment.”
Gunny paused and looked at her straight in the eye. “We don’t have time. It’s now or never.”
“Mom, let’s just go!”
“Whoa there, Lardo! You ain’t going nowhere. Not with us!” The Gunny said with finality.
“Mom, they won’t let me go! What are we going to do?”
“Son, what we are going to do is I am going with these men. You are going to be a man and stay and defend your video games. I’ve done way too much for you over the years and never made you grow up. You are 35 now. Today is the day you grow up. Or it isn’t. But that is up to you now. It isn’t up to me. Gunny let’s go!” Without a second look, she climbed into the passenger side of Gunny’s truck. He gunned it just as the first shot rang out from just down the street.
With tears in his eyes, Dave ran back inside. If you could call it running. All of a sudden, as the two vehicles disappeared around the next bend, all the time he spent on social media, all the time he spent playing games suddenly didn’t seem that important. Most of his friends spent all their time outdoors growing up. Some of his friends worked hard on family farms and were thus really successful adults. Too late he realized that he took the easy way out in life. He didn’t play hard so he wasn’t in shape and overweight with a lot of health issues. He didn’t work hard as a kid and now had nothing to show for it. As the front door to his house was kicked in, a mind numbing cramp hit him from deep within his chest. A numbness creeped down his left arm and his last thought was, why is my heart having a cramp. Oh, I see! It is a muscle. And a heart attack is a cramp. The last thing he saw was two youths standing over him with a rifle. Then Dave knew his neighbors weren’t so weird after all. They were prepared in mind, body and soul.
- The End
Before anyone gets me for being stereotypical... I have battled the bulge so to speak and am a bit of a nerd. But I did grow up outside and my parents made me eat right and healthy... This is simple a reminder to take care of complete selves. If you plan perfectly but don't take care of yourself, it will be someone else's preparation tomorrow. This is a reminder to myself!
