Elliot Ryan's Stories

Getting Up After The Fall

2007-05-29T14:02:02Z

My father walks with a cane now, after his third stroke in five years. He constantly remarks with a bitter laugh that if the Red Sox had that record in regards to championships, he could die a happy man.

Every so often, I’d see him place the piece of black metal against the wall and he’d shuffle his feet against the floor. Overly wobbly, he’d sigh in indignation and retrieve the walking aid.

“You’re going to fall down, Dad.” I react, standing at the ready to catch him should he stumble.

“The only way I’m going to get better is if I try. If I happen to get a few skinned knees in the process, I’ll wear them proudly when I can walk unaided.”

I have to admire his moxy. Sometimes being complacent is easier than running the rather treacherous gauntlet of fear.

You would think that after a child hits adulthood, they’d no longer need to learn from their parents; however some of the best lessons I’ve experienced in my short life, were after I turned 18.

Painting Porcelain Pigs

2007-05-13T18:51:04Z

I painted a pig on Mother’s Day.

It wasn’t a real bovine mind you, it was an acrylic bank in the shape of the Leaner white meat.

My two year old daughter watched in amazement as the white turned into pink with each brush stroke. As I dotted a brilliant blue, Allie looked at me and said, “Eyes!” while pointing to her own sapphire colored orbs. I nodded and repeated back the word in confirmation as I continued to work.

She was anxious for the paint to dry as I carefully scripted her first and middle name on both sides of the pig, the words ‘Allyson’ and ‘Grace’ staking a permanent claim to the coin bank.

Allie hopped around the table as I put on the layer of glitter.

“How does a piggy go?” I asked as I put it on the kitchen counter to dry.

“Ruff Ruff.” She replied very proud of her answer and for that one moment, for that one day, that pig would indeed howl.

Interstellar Draft

2007-05-12T14:40:56Z

“Why do they always faint?”

“It must be your good looks and charm.”

As she regained consciousness, Dawn opened her eyes and realized that instead of meeting her demise in her former place of employment, she was being carried.

She was coddled like a newborn baby that left her immobile, and nothing but blinding white light filled her vision. Her lips were dry and the smell of smoke still filled her nostrils.

The voices were speaking in English.

“What are we doing with this one?”

“The same with everyone else. Ship stock. It really bothers me that these world governments don’t think they can offer something to the defense of their solar system.”

“Yeah, no kidding, it’s like they expect to sit back on their cushy planets and let every other race do the fighting for them. “

“That mandatory conscription law that the Chrilackha passed was the best thing that could ever happen with the IGDF .”

“Makes our job easier. Although I think my ears are still ringing from this one.”

Dawn whimpered.

Life with Kids

2007-05-06T14:29:53Z

Miranda fastened her relatively quiet 2 year old into the car seat as her 6 and 11 year old fought over which one of them would obtain the mysteriously appealing middle of the back seat.

She settled the argument and Grace and Alex finally quieted down and took their places, buckling themselves in for the short car ride. The only difference was that now Grace had a cat like grin, while Alex sulked against the window. Her youngest daughter Iris looked at them both with an intelligence that suggested she knew how frivolous the argument had actually been.

Miranda made her way to the driver’s seat and realized she had pushed the Honda as far as it could go fuel wise as the nifty instrument warned there was 2 miles left. The little gas light icon glared a threatening yellow.

“I need to stop and get gas, but it’s going to be a miracle if we get there. I’ve only got a little left.”

Yet instead of worry, Grace started belting out “We’re not gunna make it!” to the tune of the Twisted Sisters famous song.

Caring is our business...

2007-05-05T23:24:58Z

Chris was nervous.

The white Ford van had pulled up to the usual handicapped spot at the apartment complex. He swallowed hard as he heard the familiar engine noise and stuck a finger between the blinds trying to remain inconspicuous.

He had been monitoring the van for a week now, and it was the same story since moving in. The van would pull up at different time intervals. Two noticeable occupants sat in the front seats; the heavy set bald man would shut the engine and a tall and rather unwashed partner would exit the passenger side only to open the cargo door.

The driver would be casually nodding into a cell phone, the conversation mostly masked by the metal and glass of the vehicle while his rather scruffy companion unloaded the stretcher.

What caught Chris’ attention was not the payload itself, but what was lying on it. It was a different elderly patient on every single visit. Yet, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone retrieve anyone that was brought into the neighboring walls.

Strange Dreams

2007-05-01T18:54:46Z

Slam. Kristen walked from room to room opening every large and small thing that hinged a door before her sister caught her slender shoulders.

“What is going on Kris? Did you forget your medication again?”

Kristen let her shoulders slump, her voice was full of frightened trepidation.

“Something’s been visiting me at night again. I don’t know what it is, but I keep having these vivid dreams.”

Mandy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “When is the last time you visited your shrink?”

Pulling away at the mention of the therapist, Kristen shouted at her sister who had come to the house at her urging. “Look, I’m not crazy!”

“No one said you were, but your stress has been through the roof with this divorce.” Mandy took the opportunity to reach for the wallet in her oversize purse.”Here, take this.” She pulled out a business card and handed it to her little sister.

“You have to be kidding! I’m not insane! How do you explain this!?!?” Kristen pulled up the hair at her neck and leaned forward.

ISD - The Interstellar Digest

2007-04-24T17:24:05Z

‘Too bad for the humans, if they had gotten over their petty differences regarding war, racism, and global warming, and stop listening to the man who “invented the Internet”, they might have had a chance to put their resources into developing a new interstellar drive instead of wasting away on a planet, that was doomed to die.’
Editorials note: These opinions do not necessarily reflect those of the editorial staff or the ownership of the ISD .

K’lackta M’ar took a sip of his morning Starbucks and chittered to his wife.

“I don’t get it. We gave them great coffee and they still didn’t get the motivation to get off that planet. This stuff would make anyone want to run a Kemacha.”

Tahrika M’ar placed a kiss on her husband’s slender tentacle that held his coffee. “No one is quite as athletic as you and it’s definitely a shame about humankind. I really enjoyed The facts of life . She paused for a moment and remembered the lunch box on the counter.

“Tootie, you are late for school!”

Molasses, not just used for baking anymore...

2007-04-24T17:06:12Z

Mike grabbed the shampoo in his left hand, using it as a microphone for a rather loud and off-key version of ‘Dead or Alive’ by Bon Jovi.

“Cause I’m wanted! Yeah! Dead or allllive.”

Suzanne smiled evilly to herself and grabbed the camera she had strategically placed on the nightstand. She crept into the bathroom as she heard Mike starting to squeeze the bottle of tea tree shampoo.

“What tha hell? Suzee! I think there is something wrong with this stuff!”

Suzanne quickly pulled back the shower curtain to see Mike covered in a sweet smelling and brown sticky substance.

“It’s molasses dear. Your day is only going to get better from here.”

She pushed the button on the digital camera, capturing a very dirty, surprised and shocked husband.

Suzanne’s smile only grew wider as she previewed the image. “Oh this is going to look great on my blog.”

Without another word she left the room only to hear an agitated scream behind her.

“Oh come on! Suzanne!!!”

The Pie Supremacy

2007-03-31T14:57:38Z

“So that’s why you’ve come home with some stranger’s smelly shoes and without dessert for my visiting mother?”

Ken circled me like a vulture waiting for its prey to die.

“Uhh..Yes?” I refrained from making eye contact in attempt to mask my worry.

“So you’re telling me..” He paused quite dramatically to further the anticipation of his interrogation. “You were mugged by a shoeless gangster who ran off with your pie on the LIRR ?”

“Why are you making such a big deal, Ken? Your mother doesn’t even like p…”

“That’s not the issue here! I am still coming to grips why he thought your baked goods were more important than the entire bathroom and bank you carry in that over-sized bag of yours.”

“Look, I told him to take the purse! Ken, I’m…”, searching for the right words in a hopeless situation, I felt the lump in my throat that told me this could only end badly. “I’m sorry, okay?”

He turned his back, “No, I’m sorry Paula. This isn’t working out. Maybe we should see other people…”

The Pie is the Thing

2007-03-30T20:55:19Z

“You’re joking right?” I kept the prize near my chest, facing away from him as he lurked behind me.

“You’re actually going to take this pie by force? There are many more interesting things in my purse, I can assure you.”

The incredulity of my voice only served to agitate as I could feel him take a step closer. “Look sistah, we can do this easy way or the hard way, but one way or another your fingahs are going to be letting go of that box in five minutes.”

Now, I had given up my wallet in a mugging once, and yet handing over this box was not on my agenda for the day. There was a line, and this overgrown shoeless gangster brute had crossed it.

Nowhere to go except to switch cars, I risked the purchase I had on the pie by extending an arm to open the adjoining doors.

I felt the train begin to slow for the station, and I took a deep breath. “So what happens in five minutes? Are your wannabe gangster buddies going to be waiting for me at the next stop?”

“Nope. My wife is.”

The Positively Prophetic Adventures of Pie

2007-03-30T14:37:47Z

I left the pie on the train, and if you ask me, it was an utter waste of a perfectly good pie.

I boarded in Farmingdale, and sat next to an older looking man who had removed his dress shoes. He wore a black pin striped suit, and had it been up to me, I would have placed him in a Sopranos episode.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet and rough. The kind that demanded attention.

“Are you talking to me?” Suddenly realizing I had just channeled Clint Eastwood, I let out a chuckle.

“What’s in the box? It’s been driving me crazy since you got on.” He broke eye contact and started looking at one of his shoeless feet.

“Pie.”

At the mention, he sat straight up. “What kind of pie?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. A kind of berry maybe? I bought it at some bakery right down the street from the station. Thought I’d bring it home to my…”

“Give me the pie.”

“Excuse me?” I clutched the box like he just asked for my firstborn.

“I said, give me the pie.”

“Umm. no?” I started to get up.

An Unreasonable Request IV

2007-03-29T21:11:03Z

Usually when clearfeeds came through our communicators, everyone continued about their business and let the data download for later consumption.

This was different. Emergency tones actually stopped people in place, and a general unease settled over the population. We had heard the computerized soft English toned voice before, just not this way.

“If you are hearing this emergency message from the United Colonization Agency, we regret to inform you, that you have been officially quarantined. Military blockades have stopped all transport entering and leaving DC. No one with the exception of high diplomatic reserves will be allowed out restricted colonial borders. More information will be available shortly. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

Frozen in their glances and half sipped iced coffees, there was no movement for 30 seconds until a woman quietly fainted.

The Space Diaries of Earthborn Maggie

2007-03-28T19:34:09Z

“Tongue Please.” Maggie could program her toothbrush to sound like whomever she wanted, and today it greeted her with the voice of Jonathan Powers, the teen idol of the millennium.
She rolled her large blue eyes and stuck out her tongue as the bristles tickled her taste buds. “Nothing like getting your teeth brushed by an interstellar pop star.” She mused.
“Spit Please.” Maggie launched the mix of paste and saliva into the sink which at the touch, washed it away. As her brush finished the tune I love your eye, (which currently charted no.1 on the Hot Galactic 1000) she gave one last stare into the mirror and sighed.
“Open.” The sliding door to the lavatory lifted as Maggie started towards her bedroom. Upon reaching the brightly painted pod, she felt her feet start to lift from the floor.
Rubbing her head where it made contact with the ceiling, she whined, “Dad! Amelia is playing with the anti-grav controls again!”
Sounds of giggles taunted her as Maggie’s six year old sister backstroked on by.

Supernova

2007-03-17T16:37:18Z

The world will end in 2015, and it will go something like this:

As your wife arrives home in the ‘it was so terribly expensive we had to take out a second mortgage to comply with environmental standards or face jail time’ redesigned Toyota Prius, carrying the part for the hydrogen/electric hybrid system ‘that keeps breaking every week because of poor design’, while sipping the Starbucks 100% half-caff latte coffee ‘that was harvested in a saved rain forest at the national expense of the education and drug enforcement budgets’, a moment of sheer panic will overtake humankind, for at 3:18 PM on May 27th, night will fall forever, and we will cease to exist.

The Kalarians on the other hand, who will be catching the interplanetary feed the next morning, will remark on how we really should have listened to that wheelchair-confined scientist who talked about colonizing other galaxies two decades prior. Translated into sixty eight trillion languages, the blurb will probably read like this:

The Toaster Adventures Begin!

2007-03-14T14:42:39Z

The scent of freshly cut lawn wafted through the open windows on what most certainly proclaimed itself as a perfect day.

I walked out onto the porch to retrieve the morning paper, only to be greeted by the neighbor’s cat, who, in the past few months, had made itself a fixture on our steps. The feline greeted me with a large yawn and reared its rump to stretch in its small spot of early sun.

“Rough night, mmm? I really should consider charging you rent.”

Unsurprised by the sound of my voice, the cat closed its eyes sleepily, dismissing any further conversation between us.

“Bah. I’m not that boring.” I chided the animal as I walked back into the house, intent on breakfast. I hadn’t noticed the acrid smell of burnt bread until Annie set a plate of what looked like ash before me.

“New recipe?”

I picked up the coffee cup that accompanied the dish and took a sip, trying to hide my playful smirk.