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June 7, 2007

Thursday

Today's random word is shovel.

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This is a true story of some kids I grew up with, titled, "David and Dawn"

He was 19. He planted trees in his parents’ backyard, and built an orchard. He stuck the shovel in the ground on Sunday to be there when he returned on Friday night.
He died in a car wreck on his way to work Monday morning. His ashes were buried in the veterans cemetery.
His sister was married in that orchard, the shovel standing in mute testimony to her brother’s love. She died in a car wreck two years later and her ashes were buried with his.
The shovel still stands in the trees, now bearing fruit for his widowed mother.

Posted by: Donna at June 7, 2007 10:13 AM · Permalink

He stared down the man across the table with his beady eyes. A drop of sweat gathered on his temple and trickled down his face. He looked down briefly, then took of his glasses.

The man across from him acted like a statue as he glared back, never wavering.

Finally he looked down at his chip stack and pushed them forward.

"I'm all in."

The statue never flinched. He simply pushed his chips back with confidence.

"I call. What do you got?"

A smile spread across the first man's face as he laid his cards on the felt.

"All shovels."

Posted by: Nick at June 7, 2007 10:41 AM · Permalink

WHAT'S IN A NAME

“No, it’s Shovel.”

The convict made flagrant quotation marks in the air to get his point across.

“Like a ‘show’ on Broadway and ‘vel’ like...I don’t know...velour?”

The burly guard scowled and made a mark on a grubby clipboard with a tooth marked pencil. Just what he needed - an affluent playboy from one of the overflowing upstate prisons. It was his experience they could hardly quarry and kept tripping over the chains.

“Well Mr. Shovel,” he said contemptuously, picking some tools from the cart and throwing them down in the hole. “Meet Mrs. Spade and Mr. Pick.”

Posted by: Lisa at June 7, 2007 2:40 PM · Permalink

He looked around the crowd. All faces emotionless, in the bright, oppressive sunlight, they seemed not to blink as they stared at him. A dust cloud whirled up, momentarily hovering just behind this silent crowd. His head was yanked back and then blackness, forced down over his eyes. He felt the hot sweat ran freely down his chest, soaking his shirt, but for some reason he was not panicked, as the old man mumbled to his right, inaudible except for an occasional "God". The rope tightened, he took a deep breath. The trap door swung down from under his feet.

Posted by: Barry at June 7, 2007 6:54 PM · Permalink