Category: Short Stories

Short stories about my life, characters I’ve created, and things I’ve done

SCRIPT: Three Little Birds

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​The Council of Three Birds Meets To Discuss Betsey

Turkey: Well, guys… What is the consensus? What do we think of this little Crow? This Writer Extraordinaire?

Pheasant: I don’t like her. I think she is crazy.

Owl: I like her. She is very intelligent. There is much more going on with her than meets the eye. You just have to get to know her.

Turkey: I don’t really know her that well, but I’m really starting to like her. Those stories she writes are funny. I like the way she writes about me.

Pheasant: That’s only because the top three words she uses to describe you are “hot,” “sexy,” and “handsome.”

Turkey: What can I say? I’m a good-looking guy. Charming. Magnetic. Powerful. [He smooths back his hair] It’s hard to go wrong with a guy like me. I can see why she’s so captivated. And who can blame her? What woman can resist me? I’m the one in charge here. You might even say I have the biggest antlers of all the elk in the forest. [He stands there admiring himself in the mirror just a little bit longer]

Owl and Pheasant roll their eyes and exchange a look.

Pheasant: I don’t know. I’m not sure about her. I just don’t think I can trust her. She’s definitely a troublemaker.

Owl: Oh, she’s not dangerous. She just likes to stir the pot. Turn the heat up on whatever’s already been simmering for awhile, you know what I’m saying?

Turkey: I understand exactly what you’re saying. [He sits back and strokes his beard for just a moment] Perhaps a little Trouble is just what we need to brighten this place up. It’s been too much of the same for too long. We are all very bored, are we not, gentlemen? We need something to entertain us now that this dreary existence has become even more dull.

Pheasant: You have a thing for her, don’t you?

Turkey: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Pheasant: You definitely have a thing for her.

Turkey: I do not have a thing for her!

Pheasant: Yes, you do. I’ve seen the way you look at her.

Turkey: I’m not looking at her!

Owl: She has a thing for you too. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.

Turkey: She’s not looking at me!

Pheasant: And we’ve all seen the way she writes about you in her diary. You were just gushing about how much you loved it earlier, were you not?

Turkey: Uhhh…

Pheasant: Stop trying to hide it! Everyone knows! We make fun of you all the time.

Turkey: Everyone knows?

Owl: Yes. It is very obvious something has been going on between you two. Honestly, I’m not surprised. I predicted this outcome many years ago. Now, my prediction has come true, as many of my predictions are wont to do.

Pheasant: Look, I’m not saying you should get involved with her, but that girl desperately needs to get fucked. I have never met a more tightly-wound, high-strung, stuck-up, snot-nosed, elitist bitch in my entire fucking life. I would love nothing more than to see you take that insufferable cunt down by about fifteen fucking notches.

Turkey: Jeez, Pheasant, tell us how you really feel.

Owl: Good luck with that one. She is not going to make it easy for you.

Turkey: Whatever! No woman can say no to me! Not even that one!

Owl: She won’t say no to you, but she will say no to that wedding ring on your finger. Why would she settle for cold, leftover soup when she knows she deserves a full Thanksgiving feast? That woman right there is looking for a thousand reasons to say no. You have to give her a reason to say yes.

Turkey: Challenge Accepted.

Pheasant: Good luck, soldier. You’re doing God’s work out there. I mean that sincerely, because I can’t even begin to imagine going anywhere near her.

Turkey: Well, they don’t call me The Whoremonger for nothing!

All three birds laugh together.

The End

STORY: A Breath of Fresh Air

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I look up from my notebook just in time to notice the little green snake slithering toward me.

“My, my, haven’t we been working hard today?”

“So it would seem. I am a professional writer, you know. I don’t have time to just sit around all day. I’m very busy and important.”

“You’ve been working all day. Why not take a break? Relax out on my patio? Have a drink?”

“You just want me to write another story about you. That’s hardly a break.”

“I disagree,” hisses the snake. “Writing about me is a far more relaxing experience than writing about a bunch of silly old prostitutes.”

“They’re not silly,” I say. “Don’t diminish them just because you disagree with what they do. You’re not so different from one yourself. And writing about you is nowhere near as relaxing as you think. It’s actually quite stressful.”

The snake looks into my eyes hypnotically.

“Write me a story, Betsey. Please?”

“Well…” I hesitate at first, but I cannot resist him for long. “All right, if you really want one, I suppose I have just the story to satiate you. It’s about a sexy snake who lures an unsuspecting writer into his nest.”

“Sounds spectacular,” says the snake, slithering off the desk. He transforms into a handsome, young Emperor with beautiful blue eyes sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“You may tell it to me now,” he says with some authority in his voice.

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

I drape myself comfortably across the chair and begin to pen the tale.

$$$

One afternoon, I was seated comfortably on the bench outside of Bloody Mary’s Bar. The wi-fi in my apartment had recently gone out, so I decided to steal it from my favourite and most-frequented bar instead. I figured I’d spent enough money there over the years to justify it.

Unfortunately, right at the moment, I looked up from my phone to see the handsome, young owner heading straight for me. Just my luck. He caught me stealing his internet from him… again.

“Hey Betsey,” he said with that sneaky smile on his face. “What are you up to today?”

“Oh nothing,” I said. “Nothing at all. I definitely wasn’t sitting here stealing your internet, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why don’t you come inside?” he asked. “Take a break. Relax on the patio. Have a drink.”

I looked him up and down once before my eyes finally settled on his left ring finger. Reality hit me like a ton of bricks again.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ve got other plans today.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, once again catching my gaze in his. I could feel his beautiful blue eyes hypnotizing me. He gave me a winning smile as he opened the door. He closed his eyes as the cool blast of A/C hit his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his mane out in the breeze. He stood there for just a moment, posing for me as if he were a model. I even noticed him lift the corner of his shirt up just a little bit.

“It sure is hot outside,” he said seductively. “You sure you don’t want to cool down with something refreshing to drink?”

I covered up my gaping mouth just in time to catch the drool.

“Uhhh…” I stumbled over myself searching for words. “Well… I guess… when you put it that way… how much could one look really hurt? I mean drink. One drink. Yeah. That’s right. I’m an alcoholic and I come here to drink.”

Andrew held the door open for me with a wide smile on his face. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I had been robbed completely blind. The worst part was, I didn’t even care. As far as I could tell, it was worth every penny.

$$$

The Emperor smiles at me and claps his hands.

“That was a good one,” he says.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I wrote it just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Just for you.”

“But why?” he asks softly.

“Because,” I say, once again stealing a line from our mutual friend, “You’re the only person in this world that I like.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

The End

STORY: Sneaking Out, Sneaking In

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The night I snuck out of Bloody Mary’s Bar was legendary. The night I snuck back in was even more so.

I was sitting at the bar, waiting for Tom after one of his more ridiculous dates. He had a lot to answer for. Duke had been watching me stew over his brother for some time and decided to interfere. When Tom finally came in, they pointed at me and laughed. Tom stood by the door, smirking at me like he owned the place. I knew he was inviting me to walk past him to leave, but I would not be played for a fool so easily.

I was sick of these men and their bullshit. I decided to take revenge. I reached into my purse and pulled out my lucky cigarette. I went out onto the back patio and waited for inspiration to strike. Suddenly, it came to me: I could climb the fence and sneak out the back.

My first few attempts to scale the fence were unsuccessful. I pushed a table up against the cooler and climbed on top. I was just a few inches too short to pull myself up.

“I wish some random man would appear to give me a lift.”

Luckily, right at that moment, some random man appeared to give me a lift.

He caught me standing on the table trying to pull myself up.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Are you trying to sneak in?”

“Of course not!” I exclaimed. “I’m trying to sneak out! That old villain Tom showed up here tonight and I’m not having any of it! Do you think you could possibly assist me in my plight by giving me a lift?”

“Of course,” he said. I could tell by his expression that he was mesmerized. “What do you need me to do?”

“I just need to climb up on top of this cooler and down the back fence. All you need to do is lift me up by the legs so I can push myself up.”

He did what I asked immediately. Thanks to his help, I was finally able to climb on top of the cooler. I climbed down the other side of the fence and jumped down to the ground. I called out to the random man one last time.

“Thanks for your help!” I said. “Have a good night!”

“Say, just what was your name anyway?”

“Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire.”

I laughed my ass off the entire walk home.

Sometime later, the novelty of standing by the door had faded and I still hadn’t returned from the patio.

“Where did Betsey go?” Tom asked. “I didn’t see her leave. Did you?”

“I’ll go check the patio,” said Duke. He checked the back room, the patio, and all the bathrooms. It appeared that I had suddenly vanished into thin air. When Duke came back, the expression on his face was mystified.

“She’s gone,” he said.

“That’s so weird,” said Tom. “Where did she go?”

To this day, I still laugh about it when I’m depressed and angry.

+++

The night I snuck back in, Duke was the bartender on duty. Tom and his friend were the only other people in the bar. I decided to go to Bloody Mary’s for one last drink before I had to abstain for Inipi. Unfortunately, the presence of these three villains prevented me from walking in.

They saw me standing in the doorway and decided to come outside. I booked it as fast as I could and hid around the corner. They stood outside, as if they were purposefully blocking so I could not come in.

Well, I’d had just about enough of these men and their bullshit. I would not be denied my favourite drink before attending a Life-Changing Spiritual Ceremony™. I decided to take revenge.

In less than a moment, inspiration struck me. I could sneak in the same way I had snuck out a year before. I walked around the block, through the alleyway, and over to the fence. I climbed up onto the cooler and jumped down on the patio.

“Parkour!” I said to one in particular.

I smirked to myself and walked into the bar. Duke was still outside. I took a seat in my usual spot and sat there waiting for him with the biggest smile on my face. When he finally came back inside and saw me sitting there, the look on his face was Priceless™.

“Hi there,” I said pleasantly as I tossed a fresh twenty on the counter. “I would like a Blue Moon with orange juice, please.”

Duke looked at me like I was the literal Anti-Christ. It was probably only because his family is Super Catholic™. They are so Catholic, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually seen a real witch burned at the stake.

“How did you get in here?!” he demanded. “I need to know right now.”

I smiled at him again.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

Duke suddenly looked stressed out. He looked like he was about to have a panic attack. I have to admit, watching him freak the fuck out was really fun. I sincerely enjoyed every minute of it.

“Don’t mess with me,” he said. “If there’s a door unlocked, I need to know!”

I laughed at him.

“I didn’t come in through a door.”

“Then how the hell did you get in?!”

“Oh you know, just a bit of good, old-fashioned witchcraft.”

Duke’s eyes widened. For a moment, he looked like he was genuinely afraid of me. I looked forward to the moment when he finally realized that I was totally messing with him. There was no magic involved. I had just used my brain to outsmart him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I’ll have a Blue Moon with orange juice, please. Extra oranges on the side.”

From that moment on, Duke never put oranges in my beer ever again.

STORY: The Owl

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From the first moment I met the Owl, I knew there was an alien life form living inside of his brain. Though he appeared human on the outside, his disguise has never been enough to fool me. I am 100% convinced The Owl is, in fact, an alien from outer space, just like me.

While some aliens come to Earth to live a relatively peaceful, meaningless existence, the Owl was sent here with a purpose. He’s part of something big, something very few individuals know about. It’s only a matter of time until the great mystery begins to unfold. Then these stupid humans will finally discover the truth, a truth the Owl had predicted for years. A truth they had been blind to all along.

His perch at the bar is the perfect place to sit back and observe human behavior. He records their most interesting activities and sends the data back to the mothership. He’s never without one of his many communication transmission devices by his side. He wears special goggles around his eyes that contain state-of-the-art technology designed to produce optimum recording quality.

The Owl is definitely a legal alien. He’s been registered with the MIB for years and regularly gives them information. He acts as an intergalactic freelance spy. He passes the information he receives between his home planet, the US Government, and any other interested parties… but only for a price.

As the only other alien in my immediate vicinity, I seek the Owl out for advice regularly. I know his understanding of human behavior is very similar to mine. Though we are from completely different planets, neither of us is from Planet Earth. And that, at the end of the day, is the most important thing the two of us have in common.

STORY: The Haunted Highway

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ROSEBUD, SOUTH DAKOTA — Sometime after midnight, I passed over into the Rosebud Reservation. The Pow Wow music had long since faded into static and the stars the only source of light on the road.

Highway 18 spans the southern length of South Dakota and passes through three Indian reservations. It is notorious for being haunted by trickster spirits, especially along the Rosebud Reservation. I could have turned West and stayed in Hot Springs for the night, but I decided to try my luck with the spirits instead. I wanted to see if I could get a vision.

I’d heard stories about Highway 18 since I started researching Wounded Knee. I was especially warned about the area I was passing through now. Cars were always breaking down at random, and it was the last place you wanted to be stranded at night.

My first source had her first highway encounter as a teenager. One night, she and her best friend were out smoking and driving. A tall, shadowy figure with evil eyes crossed the road in front of them. They screamed and slammed on the breaks, but the figure disappeared. After collecting their composure, they drove straight home and didn’t leave the house again.

My second source was driving down the highway when she spotted a crying child alone on the side of the road. When she stopped to ask him where his parents were, the little boy didn’t say a word. He only looked into her with his strange eyes. The woman put him in the backseat and drove to the police station. When she parked the car and turned around, the little boy was gone.

A third source recalled the night he was almost lured off the road while drunkenly stumbling home. The lights beckoned to him, motioning to follow them into an abandoned farmhouse far off the road. He shook his head and refused their call. He decided to play it safe and passed out in the ditch beside the road instead.

Much to my simultaneous relief and disappointment, I had yet to meet any spirits on the road. Unfortunately, my energy was fading fast. I knew there was nowhere to stay on the Rez when I came here, but I decided to go for it when the last motel I passed in Nebraska had MURDER written all over it. I noped right out of that one, much preferring the company of a few trickster spirits over Nebraska’s very own Norman Bates.

In spite of my exhaustion, I decided to press on. I knew my vision was close at hand. I lit another cigarette and rolled the windows down to give my head a lift. I checked the mirrors behind me. No other cars were on the road and I hadn’t passed any in some time. The nearest town was miles out of the way; more like a collection of trailer houses than actual place.

I was all alone late at night in the middle of nowhere on a poverty-stricken Indian Reservation. Yet I felt safer than I had in a long time. Maybe burning all that sage and sweetgrass beforehand was more effective than I thought.

The road in front of me began to twinkle and blur. The wheels of my car swerved further to the right. I was just beginning to nod off when suddenly a bright white light appeared before me. I snapped awake just in time to slam on the breaks. The ball of light exploded in a flash and transformed into a crow taking flight on the road in front of me. It looked at me for just a moment before disappearing into the night.

When I recovered from the shock, I noticed the lights of a gas station flickering close by. It wasn’t there before, but I drove up to it anyway. It looked like it had been abandoned for years. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure it was real. For all I knew, I was being lured into a trap by a trickster spirit. It was no matter. If it was some kind of elaborate death trap, it was a good day to die.

An abandoned gas station on the Rez wasn’t exactly my first choice for a safe place to stay, but it wasn’t giving me MURDER vibes either. Under the circumstances, it would have to do. I resolved to take a short power nap and stop again in a more populated location.

I offered the spirits some tobacco and asked for protection. I left an open bag of chips outside of the car as an offering and smudged with sage again. I crawled into the backseat of my Jeep into my cocoon of blankets. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep.

—

The old tribal cop pulled up to the gas station and looked around. No bodies on the ground, two vehicles in the lot. The first, a semi truck with the driver fast asleep inside. The second, a Jeep he had seen only once before. The cop looked at the bumper sticker on the rear and contemplated “The End.”

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he ran the plates. So, the Wašíču writer had remained a loyal ally after all. He knew she was a keeper when he met her at Wounded Knee. But what the hell was she doing here at this time of night?

The cop wondered if the vehicle was stolen and decided to investigate. The name RUSSELL flashed across his badge as he climbed out of the car. He checked on the semi again before approaching the Jeep with caution. He put his hand on his gun, his heart pounding as he crept closer.

He looked through the window and gasped. Asleep in the back was the same beautiful young woman he had met before. Accompanying her was a wild assortment of her belongings. She looked like she had been living out of her car for sometime.

The cop shook his head. He didn’t know what she was doing out here, but he knew she had to be protected. Now he understood why he’d suddenly been called all the way out here at this time of night.

He picked up the tobacco and bag of chips off the ground, then returned to his vehicle to keep watch. He kicked the seat back and put his boot heels up on the dash, singing to himself softly as he ate his snack and smoked his pipe.

—

When I woke up again, I saw the cop car and panicked immediately. I didn’t even take the time to consider who or what I was seeing. I made sure my souvenirs from Colorado were stashed safely In the back and hopped back in the front seat. I took off flying across the reservation and didn’t look back. The cop car followed me until I crossed the border, then suddenly vanished into thin air.