The Pigeon Lady

She pulled her hands out of the crumpled paper bag, holding a handful of dried breadcrumbs. Hundreds of pigeons fluttered their wings, growing impatient. Her frail hands sprinkled the crumbs around her. Peck. Peck. Peck. Other birds from across the park flew over to join the fray. One hopped onto the bench, cocking its head to the side, staring at the old lady. Taking her index finger, she stroked its head and placed a crumb on the bench . Peck. Peck. Peck. They came closer as the crumbs disappeared, encircling the bench, some hopping on her lap and a few landing on her shoulders. She giggled, digging her hands back into the bag and scattering more.

A Christmas Tea Party

The top of the Christmas tree looked like Mount Washington to old Miss Henderson but she still climbed the chair and placed the angel in its proper perch. She wobbled her way down the chair, holding on for dear life. Once securely on the ground, she finished the tree off with some tinsel and lights. It looked like the ones she made when she was young, even though it was plastic.

She loved this time of year, the sparkling wrapping paper tied with twirling ribbon and the smile of ecstasy on the children’s faces as they tore the paper apart. Another part of the holidays that she loved was the music that played over all the shopping centers.

Miss Henderson opened a cardboard box, pulling out several stockings, one for each of her children and hung them on the wall near the tree, wishing her apartment had a fireplace. Each stocking had a name: Cindy, Mark, Emily, Mom and Dad.

It was Christmas Eve and she was growing excited for her children’s arrival. The sky had grown dark and a few snow flakes drifted against the pane. She stopped by the sink to fill up a tea kettle.

When she finished turning the stove on, a heavy knock fell on the door and it opened. Four people entered, three dressed in nurses outfits, two women and one man and an old gentleman dressed in a black sweater with a red reindeer on it.

"Hello Miss Henderson," said the younger male. One of the women nudged him with her elbow. “I mean, mom."

"How wonderful," Miss Henderson said, embracing each with a hug and giving the older man a kiss. His eyes grew with surprise. "I was hoping that you would miss the storm. Come in. Come in."

They entered and sat on her small couch; the older gentleman went for the rocker. The tea kettle gave out a sharp whistle.

"Oh, excuse me," Miss Henderson said, heading into the kitchen. "Can I get anyone a tea?"

"Sure," they answered.

When she left, the three took off their coats.

"What are we here for?" asked the younger male.

"Just pretend you're her son," said one of the nurses.

"She kissed me," said the older man still flabbergasted.

"You're her husband," said the other nurse.

"I am?"

"No. Just pretend to be."

Miss Henderson returned with a tray of tea. When she sat the tray down, the older man stood up and kissed her.

"Oh my," she yelped, "Now Walter not in front of the kids."

The five drank the tea, ate crackers and talked. After an hour the three nurses rose.

"Thank you mom but we have to get going. Merry Christmas," said the nurse playing Emily.

They stood giving their good bye hugs. They waved from the hallway, motioning for the older man to follow them.

"Come on Hurley," said the male nurse.

"Good bye kids," he replied, holding Miss Henderson around the shoulder and waving at them, closing the door. "Now what did you mean not in front of the kids."

Police State

With the sad death of a former Russian spy, Alexander Litvinenko, by a radioactive weapon, we must take a hard look into Russia's government. It is clear that Mr. Litvinenko's death and the death of Anna Politkovskaya are related and there is an easy connection that points in the direction of Putin and his government. It is also clear that Russia is a police state in democracy clothing. The sad thing is that they're not even going to put on make-up.

Anna was gunned down in an elevator and Alexander ate radioactive soup. This is straight from a James Bond movie.

Russia looks like it is being run by the mob. How did this new democracy end up this way? Well, during the collapse of communism, the top tier of the Russian government, called the oligarchs, gobbled up the remaining industries that were formerly owned by the regime. Now these men hold enormous power. According to Forbes, Russia now houses more billionaires than any other country. In fact 25 out of the world's 100 richest men are in Russia. These people are the arms and legs of the Russian government and Putin is it's head.

Their power to control is enormous. Russia hand picks its governors instead of using elections, leaving no oversight or representation and if you don't agree with the government, they'll come after you with armed men, radioactive soup, or for Mr. Khodorkovsky, considered Russia's wealthiest man and oil tycoon, the courts. And who do you think runs the oil business? That's right, Putin.

So don't believe that Russia has changed into a flourishing democracy, for behind this facade is a shady underground shadow government, pulling the strings that bind Putin and repressing the freedoms of Russians.

A Winter's Tale

Kenneth Walton stopped in the lobby to adjust his scarf, while outside the glass doors giant snowflakes swirled in an updraft. A doorman opened the door for him as he gathered his briefcase and left. He ducked his head in the direction of the wind. Snowflakes slipped down the back of his neck, as he trenched on towards a line of cabs. Entering the nearest one, Ken slid in, setting his briefcase on the seat.

“97th street,” he said, brushing snow from his shoulders.

“You got it,” answered the cabbie in a think Arabic voice.

The cab slithered out of line and down the road. A thick smell of incense filled the cab and Kenneth traced the thin trail of smoke to a small looking Egyptian idol, a woman in robes holding the burning incense.

" Are you working late tonight?” asked the driver.

“Just concentrate on the road,” retorted Ken, looking out the windows and noticed that they were tinted so dark, he couldn't see through them. “What’s up with these windows?”

“I can’t answer that Mr. Walton. I’m Driving.”

Kenneth’s hands grasped his cell phone inside his jacket pocket.

“How do you know my name?” he questioned. Looking down at his phone, he noticed that it showed no signal. He tried to open the door handle but it was locked and there was nothing there to unlock it. “Unlock this door now!”

“Relax Mr. Walton. We’re just going to take a little ride.”

“I don’t care who you’re working for. I’m going to make your life a living hell. I’m going to deport you’re a**.”

“Perhaps this will help,” said the cabbie, holding a business card in his hand.

Kenneth snatched the card. It was all red except a giant K.K on it.

“No. It can’t be,” he blurted.

The cab pulled to a stop. The doors clicked, then opened.

“You can get out now,” said the cabbie.

Ken reluctantly opened the door and got out, looking around. This was his garage. He walked up to the door leading inside and turned the knob, getting one good look at the driver before entering. The kitchen lights were off and he turned them on, scanning the room. Down the hall a flickering light told him that a fire had been stoked. He approached the living room. There on his large leather couch was an overweight old man, his white beard spreading over his bright red suit. He held a glass of milk to his lips, eyeing Ken as he entered.

“Sit down Ken,” he said, gesturing to the sofa. “We need to talk.”

Ken sat, watching the light cascade off the old man’s face as he leaned forward. “Now Ken, you do know why I’m here don’t you?”

“Um, no idea.”

“But you do know who I am right?”

“Yes. But I don’t know why you're here."

“Oh because you and Sam have been on my naughty list for some time now. You’re costing my elves jobs and shutting down Ma and Pa workshops throughout the Poles.”

“It’s a free market and the consumer controls the market. We have no power over it and there’s nothing you or I can do.”

“Listen young man. Your chump change compared to what I had to do to take Christmas from Jesus. Now listen, we’re both on the same team. Give my elves a break or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else your wife gets a picture of your Aruba trip.” Kris laughed, holding his belly. “You don’t think I’m up north all year round.”

Ken flipped open his phone and hit speed dial.

“Hello Susie this is Ken. I need you to pull all the Tickle Me Elmos off the shelves. Just do it!” he yelled and hung up. “Are we good here?”

“Yes,” said Santa, rising. “Oh and Ken have a merry Xmas.”

A Sixty Word Story

Dylan’s hangover caused dots to flash in front of his eyes, as he pulled the lever of the car compactor. He looked both ways, holding his breath, sweating, as the machine began to work. Edwin rounded a heap of cars, holding a cup of steaming coffee.
“Wild night last night, huh? ” asked Edwin.
“Yeah.”
“Hey isn’t that your car?”

Hello Emptiness

Hello vast void of nothingness. This is the first blog entry. I am starting this blog to help myself write everyday. It will be filled with nonsense, abstract things and just about everything that is nothing.-DavidG