This writing was accepted for publication in the 96 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “a Bad Influence” Down in the Dirt (v129) (the May/June 2015 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Adrift (issues / chapbooks edition) - the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2015 collection book		get the 378 page Jan. - June 2015 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Adrift (issues edition) the Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2015 collection book		get the 318 page Jan. - June 2015 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Sunlight in the Sanctuary (the 2015 poetry, flash fiction, prose & artwork anthology)		get this poem collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Why?

Eric Burbridge

    This was the first time I sat in a booth of “The Pancake House” nearest the corner window. It fascinates me to watch pedestrians at a busy intersection press the button to walk across the street. They hit it two or three times.
    Why? It don’t work people!
    It never worked, not just in my village, but everywhere else. That’s just as ineffective as a “curb your dog” signs. Have you ever seen someone curb their dog?
    I needed the exercise so I dropped those questions in the village suggestion box earlier. The mayor, a short guy with an uneven beard and a broken nose, read it on the spot. You know what that got me. But, I must say, it was an articulate “mind your own business.”
    I declined a coffee refill, extended my “Hurry Cane” and decided to take the six block journey to Walmart. My meds should be ready. I felt pretty good for a retiree with a trick knee. The heat and humidity works wonders on my occasional touch of arthritic stiffness. I remember when they laid the new sidewalks along the business district, reddish-brown cement with a cobblestone pattern. Those indentations made it a nightmare to shovel the snow. Why? That was another question I should’ve asked. But, the business community didn’t seem to mind, they have snow blowers and salt.
    I got to the intersection of California and Turner Ave, and, of course, a little old wearing string less gym shoes and leaning on a walker pressed the walk button. “It don’t work, miss.” I said.
    “How do you know?” She snapped and pressed it again.
    “Well, excuse me, sorry I mentioned it.” Stand there all day sea hag. She gave me a dirty look when the light changed and traffic came to a squeaking halt. She was first off the sidewalk and gave the cars a mouthful of colorful language.
    I took a breather on a bench outside the store. The site of the village police ticketing people for expired stickers and handicap plaques wasn’t pretty. But, at $250 a pop why don’t people exercise more caution? A few employees on a smoke break ran me away. Cigarette smoke makes my nose itch.
    I snatched a shopping cart and almost jammed my fingers in the process.
    Is there a cart in the store that the wheels don’t bump or stick? I pulled out three; no luck. That was my limit. I hate it when people hear me bumping down the aisle. But, what the hell. My medicine was ready. The short pharmacy assistant with the blotchy skin, nappy hair and nasty attitude rolled her eyes and pushed my order across the counter. I smiled and thanked her. That really pissed her off. Either she likes me or she doesn’t like tall distinguished looking old guys who don’t look their age.
    I headed for electronics. I stopped at the five dollar DVD and CD bin.
    Why in the world do they throw them in there like that? You can’t get to the bottom and if you could the weight has damaged them. They must recycle them later. On the other side of the store a bin full of boxed candy. The same dumb policy, why?
    The temperature peaked and I started to catch the bus, but I needed to complete my exercise. A blue Cadillac STS pulled up and stopped. “Mr. Williams, jump in, it’s too hot. I’ll drop you.” Mayor Atkins said. I’m surprised; he got smart a while ago, now he wants to give me a ride.
    “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, but I’ll walk. I’m right down the street.”
    “C’mon, I got good news for ya.” I hopped in and the AC felt good. “I hear your block’s got a dog problem. The village will post a few ‘curb your dog’ signs.”
    Am I clairvoyant or what? “It does?” He nodded. “I never heard of it.” He pulled in my drive. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Mayor, have a good one.” I saw my neighbor’s four-legged shit factory make a deposit on my freshly cut lawn. That was a first. I guess the mayor was right.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...