Flashy Fiction – Under a Thousand
George Angus
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 George Angus
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Welcome to this collection of short stories. These are based on a writing prompt over at Tumblemoose Writing Services.
The prompt was to pick a vanity plate and write a short story about the plate, the owner, the origin of the plate or whatever the author saw fit.
Here are the contributing authors. I’d like to take a moment and thank all of them for their outstanding submissions.
Matt from SmallBizBee
Table of Contents
Go Math by SmallBizBee Matt
El Trucko by Steven Male
Go Math by Matt Hayward
Xnorthnr by George Angus
GO MATH?
With every step closer to the mailbox I could feel my heart race faster in anticipation. Just like the many mornings before it I would try to suppress my hopefulness, but not be too successful at it. I'd been waiting nearly 2 weeks, and everyday was filled with expectancy that THIS day would be the one. Slowly opening the mailbox and peeking inside I tried to temper that expectation of what it would hold...had it finally arrived?
Here it was, the moment I'd been waiting for. As I looked inside the package was unmistakable, and instinctively, without thinking, I threw my fists in the air and exclaimed “YES!” Like a professional athlete winning a world championship, my moment had arrived. I couldn't imagine a feeling any sweeter than what I felt at that moment.
There, glistening in the early morning sunlight was the padded manila mailer from the DMV that would redefine me, solidify my place in society as one of the elite. A force to be reckoned with.
Not a warning about my unpaid parking tickets, or a reminder that my registration was expiring, not on this day. Today's package held my proof to the world that lil' ole Matt, born to humble parents in a small town, had finally arrived. I must have stood there for minutes just looking at the envelope in my slightly shaking hands, letting the reality of what I held sink in.
No doubt about it, this baby was gonna' shine on the bumper of my 1986 Subaru wagon with the 289,000 miles on it, and I'd labored for weeks over just what it should say, how I should ultimately use the six letters my state had alloted me to proclaim to the world my status. I'd wrestled with the decision, making up my mind and changing it countless times, before settling on that perfect expression that would solidify my place among the vanity elite.
Ultimately I'd decided on strong, but subtle. A short exclamation that would signal to others that I was not to be taken lightly. Simply put, my vanity license plate would read “GO MATT”.
That's it, just “GO MATT”. Not overly self congratulatory, but a reminder that I was going somewhere. Up the ladder of life, and moving past all those state issued plates. Ahhh, life is sweet at the top and “GO MATT” would let everyone know I certainly was at the top!
I couldn't wait a minute longer to rip into that envelope and bolt this puppy to it's rightful home on my bumper. Right there on the side of the street I tore into the package with a reckless abandon. Pulling from it the shiny new plate I could hardly contain myself as I turned it right side up to set my eyes on it for the first time.
Slowly I spun it around in my trembling hands, not wanting the special moment to end, wishing friends and family could be close by to share it with me, but selfishly wanting to savor this moment myself as well.
As I flipped it over, right side up and letters out I could barely believe my eyes. Laying in the palm of my hand, there it was, still glistening in that early morning sun.
To this day I can't be sure, maybe I became slightly delusional at that moment, but I swear...swear I tell you, that I heard the plate mocking me. In my hands, lay my vanity plate, the one I felt like I'd been waiting lifetime for, and it read:
GO MATH
At that moment I didn't care who made the error, was it my typo, or a DMV oversight, all I could think was...You've got to be kidding me.
El Truko.
His name I believe would be a short simple name like Bob. I presume the man is around 37 years old. He would be a hard working man (the purchase of a Toyota) with a small brain so would probably have trouble remembering things. He may be suffering from little man syndrome (either short, has a small penis or both) and doesn’t realise that the world is suffering from an economic crisis so goes out and purchases a high fuel consumption car. He would enjoy the simple things in life such as Americas Funniest Home Videos (where it doesn’t take much thinking to get the jokes). His answer to 4x4 would most likely be 13. He’d be married, the wife being a stay at home wife, and they would have probably two children. Keeping to the simple names a boy named Karl and a girl named Sandy. At school he when he was younger (or maybe still now) he would probably have been the bully, failing all classes because he was “wagging” but remaining “cool” in his own little world. He would be the guy last picked in gym class. No one would have liked him. I reckon that the owner of this license plate is overweight; he may now wear glasses and the good ol’ fashion pot belly from to many beers at the pub. The amount of friends he would have would be next to none. It’ll be the situation where he thinks everyone like him but really they would just mock him like Cartman from South Park.
-Bob “You guys do think I’m coooooooooooooooooool!”
-The
rest “No... We just said we didn’t, we really
don’t.”
-Bob
“Aww you guys are just playing around!”
His favourite food would be nachos, no other reason except because everyone likes nachos. Favourite drink, a Budweiser because the ads are hilarious. His personality while sober and drunk would be angry. He would have a really short fuse, fights with his wife often which means many trips to the pubs! The sports he is most into are… well he doesn’t play any himself (because of his current weight problem) but he likes watching gridiron as he is trying to be cool again.
This plate was bought by a man who obviously failed Spanish class as a kid. El Truko meaning nothing in Spanish except “el” means “the”, but at least he tried.
The reason he would have chosen this plate would be because he either has trouble remembering what kind of vehicle he owns (e.g. boat, sedan, aeroplane), or which car is his in the car park after another long night out at the pub. Since he is living in a low population state, he bought this number plate so he can stand out and try be cool. He may get pulled over by the police often, so having an easily remember able plate could help in his situation. All in all this guy’s dumb and over weight. Best left alone and avoid with your life!
Go Math
It had started with a gentle jibe. The snickering of a few young children engrossed in their intrinsic immaturity at so ironic a license plate. Of course, such a reaction had been expected when Mr Johnson applied for the plate, but what was to transpire no-one could have guessed. In my career as a school principal never had I seen so heinous an act by children who, by all rights, should have been more innocent; less corrupted by the whimsical influences of modern media.
I'd met the man earlier in the year, an unassuming, modest and I'd dare say nervous sort of fellow. Yet that gentle demeanour was what had brought me to the decision to hire him. Far too prevalent were teachers with an aggressive teaching style, believing in strictness and discipline over understanding and reason. "What can you bring to this school, Mr Johnson?" I had asked him in the interview.
"Well, um," I had supposed he wasn't sure how to answer that first question, but I later came to realise it was simply his way, "kids should be nurtured, and as a father of three children myself, I can safely say that, um, well, I'd be able to nurture the students here. With understanding and gentle coercion even the most rowdy of lads; like my eldest, Jacob, the wild beast, can be brought to appreciate not only the importance, but the joys, of education and learning."
He paused for a few moments, and I was just about to continue my questions when he continued, his voice continually carrying a hushed, respectful intonation. "And my passion for math I've found easily transfers into those with whom I speak, motivating learning and enjoyment."
It was at that point, as I felt myself also being drawn into his heartfelt speech, that I had made the decision to employ Mr Johnson. And so September came around, and the first day of the school year was soon to start. I noticed, as I stood in the doorway to welcome new and returning staff and students, a rather old car. Perhaps some would call it a jalopy, for it was indeed obviously well-used. Rusty on the wheel arches, and at various other points of the body, I watched as Mr Johnson stepped out and approached the building. What had caught my attention predominantly, however, was the license plate. I couldn't help but smile slightly as I read it: "GO MATH."
It was then that I knew each word he'd spoken during the interview to be true. It was also at that moment I witnessed the first taunts and snickers, jeers and whispered mockery. A few of the older students even went so far as to vocalise their amusement at such a sight. "You're the new math teach, I guess. Nice plate, dork."
But Mr Johnson took it all in his stride, offering a smile and friendly nod in their direction. As he reached the door, I greeted him and left my Vice-Principal to attend to any others who were arriving. Quickly I showed the new math teacher where his classroom would be, his cubby-hole in the staff room, and the canteen, along with a few other important places. Perhaps then was my biggest error: I left him back at his classroom, told him that the first class would be Ninth Graders, and then went about my own business. He'd seemed more than competent enough.
Apparently though, word had spread about the new dorky teacher and his ridiculous license plate. Or so the kids had thought. The corridors of the school were filled with the chatter of teenagers finding mirth in derogatory discussion about the new teacher. My walk back to the office was an interrupted one, being stopped regularly and quizzed about the math-geek that had taken the position of the previous, much loved, head of department.
Finally reaching my office, which was situated next to the staff car park, I got my first inkling of trouble as I heard a great crash. Looking out the window, I saw the jalopy as the second brick hit it. Then the third. Within the next moment or so all the windows were smashed. I shouted from my window, but it was obviously far too late.
Not wanting to disturb Mr Johnson's first class, I decided to wait until recess to give him the bad news. Starting the masses of paperwork a principal inevitably has at that time of year, it was maybe forty-five minutes later that I got the bad news. My secretary walked into the office and requested I go to the classroom where I'd left Mr Johnson.
Making my quickly, I saw... Well, exactly what you saw. I vomited. Violently. And again. Ordered the class leave immediately, my anger more than evident. I closed the school for the day, you guys had already been called of course, and then handed in my notice. I cannot help but feel I had failed him. A nice guy left to the mercy of animals. Surely that is what they are, right?
"Thank you, Mr Holson. We'll call you should we have any other questions."
Xnorthnr:
Jeepers can tell that something is up. He's walking around the cabin with his tail slung low, and he keeps looking over his shoulder and shooting me looks like he's in trouble. I tell him it's okay, but he's smarter than that. That faithful lab has seen me go through my fits before and he'll probably see me go through even more before it's all said and done.
April 15. It snowed again last night. Dammit. The days are getting longer, and yes, the calendar says it's spring, but apparently we didn't get the memo up here. We're supposed to have a high of 20F today.
That's it. I am so done. Ain't natural for people to live this way and I'm not spending one more day freezing my tail-feathers in this God-forsaken place. This is what Jeepers can sense. This is what has gotten his radar going.
The obvious question to ask is, “Where am I going?”
The crazy answer is that I have no idea.
I do know however, exactly how to figure out where my new home will be.
“C'mon, boy.” I threw on my coat and headed for the door. Jeepers brightened a bit and scurried out the door, tail wags and the spring in his step giving his true feelings away. He wasn't just excited about going outside, he was excited about what was about to take place.
The cold air hit my nostrils like a blade. The low clouds threatened snow at any minute and there was just enough wind to help make things a little colder, a little more challenging.
I reached over, into the bed of the pickup and grabbed the bungees. Tossing them towards the front of the old Ford, I turned and went to the side of the cabin and grabbed the damned thing. I knew it was going to be a long trip so I spent the time to make sure it was strapped good and tight to the grille.
The truck had been warming up and I'd gone into the cabin and retrieved my earthly possessions and Jeepers' food and water dishes. I took one last look around, called Jeeps into the front of the truck and put it into gear.
The only plan I had was to drive south. The south, where April truly IS spring.
Jeeps and I drove for many days. I lost track of just how many. All I know is that with each mile, with each degree raise on the thermometer, I felt my soul awaken and become more alive.
I knew when we would finally stop. As soon as the question was asked, I would know we were home.
Sometime in the first week in May, I stopped for gas at a little Mom and Pop store deep inside North Carolina. I came outside after paying and getting some beef jerky for me and Jeeps.
There, standing in front of the truck, was a man wearing dirty jeans and a RedMan ball cap. He was staring at the grille and literally scratching his head.
“Mister, is this your truck?”
“Yeah, it is, why?”
“I need to ask you a question.”
My eyes grew wide and my heartbeat kicked up a notch. “Sure.”
“What IS that thing strapped to the front of your truck?”
My eyes watered a bit. I knew we had found our new home.
I grinned a big one.
“That, my friend, is a snow shovel.”