Dr. Richard von Fuchs
Published by Richard von Fuchs at Smashwords
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The doorbell rang. Carol started through her kitchen when the telephone rang. She hurried to find out who was at the door before the phone would stop ringing. She bumped into an oversized zucchini, left indefinitely on the kitchen counter. It knocked a gallon jar of blackberry juice onto her kitchen floor.
“God xxxx it! Son of a bitch!” She flung open her door. “What do you want?”
Two young men in suits and ties, with plastic name tags and briefcases were standing on the little slab of concrete in her carport which served as a vestigial porch. The phone kept ringing.
A stocky young man with a high fashion haircut, (who was an inch too short to get into the RCMP), smiled and said, “Have you ever thought about enjoying the here and now?”
The phone kept ringing.
“Go xxxx yourself!” Carol shouted and slammed the door.
The taller boy, with paste covered pimples, was already in retreat. “Come on Bert. I don’t think we can tune into her wave length right now. Let’s find somebody more harmonic.”
The phone was still ringing. Blackberry juice oozed deeper into the cracks in the kitchen floor, starting to seep into the insulation, heading for the plasterboard that was the basement ceiling where it would leave an indelible pattern. It would command a high price at the museum of modern art, if Carol could have opened herself to marketing this accidental work of art.