Flash fiction

 The animals are better

As a waiter, Tim did not earn much. But he had enough to feed his wife and daughter. But like how any fool would do, he never saved what he was receiving. He was very much in debt and was slapped and fisted when the giver lost his patience. Even after all this, his wife never helped. Her father said that it was Tim’s sole responsibility and did not show any kindness. She never accepted beggars into her home. Once an old man came asking for money and was chased out by dishes flying out of the kitchen window. Tim returned drunken one day after work, only to be kicked out by his wife and her father. She even began to refuse giving him food. He did not even care about his daughter anymore.  And he couldn’t buy anything himself as he only had a few coins at the end of the day after gambling and drinking. He was now a street person, not fitting into his wife’s concept of ‘high class.’ My dad used to give him money, telling him to fill his stomach with something refreshing. And yes, he filled his stomach with alcohol. Dad stopped helping him, and so did his friends. That is when he started something truly weird. And calling it weird would be an understatement.

Complaints reached the owner of the restaurant that what was promised was not reaching tables. No one knew what was happening except Tim. Other waiters had spoken about him entering the washroom with dishes. But no one knew that after he entered, he ate half of what was on the plate. Since he was broke, and his wife never cared, this was the only way he could fill his stomach. This continued for some time. But he was not completely unnoticed. He was suspected by the manager. But he couldn’t really confirm it.

There is always a time when a smart fool becomes over smart. That is the precise moment he gets labeled as a dumb fool. Tim was no exception to this. Once, a customer shouted at the billing desk. I was there with my family. He demanded to speak with the manager and the manager was immediately silenced by what he had to say. The man had ordered wine with his dinner. But what he got was water instead. The manager questioned Tim and he agreed that he had drunken the wine and filled the glass with tap water from the bathroom. Dad asked the manager if he could forgive him for once. He burst out on hearing that and said that Tim was a piece from another puzzle. He wouldn’t fit the atmosphere of the place. He was kicked out in great anger. But the restaurant itself did not stand for a long time. The man spread the word and people united to close the restaurant. Even after kicking out the problem, the owner was forced to do it.

He got into a job as a night guard at a zoo. He brought a bottle every night and drank until he passed out on his chair. Once, he couldn't find the bottle. He found it inside a giraffe's cage. It had drank the whole thing. But he continued bringing the brandy. The animals loved him. He even shared his drink with a chimpanzee. He was happy. He was loved. The animals were better.

     THE BEST GIFT

The morning clouds drift lazily in the breeze without destination or purpose.

“Larry!” Called dad. “Don't be a doormat. Drag you butt down here!”

This is how everyday goes; everyday since mom died.

“What do I wear?” I asked.

“Your uniform.” He said.

“I wear this everyday. It is so brown and dirty and it seems like rats have drilled into it.”

“They have!”

“I am not going to school. Not until I get a new pair.”

I used to say that everyday and go out wearing it. But that day, I looked down the window and watched dad hurry to the mine. His worn shoes were taking a toll on his blistered feet. And he was working less and getting paid accordingly. I didn't care much. All I wanted were a pair of decent looking pants. I was hungry and found a smelly apple I couldn't eat.

“A kg of apples.” I told myself as I walked down the road. I searched my pockets, counted the coins and corrected, “no. Maybe half.”

The shop was shut. “Mr Foyer.” I called. But no answer. A dude with a hair-band told me that he was sick and taking rest. I decided to go check on him. The dude said I was crazy to go to him now just for some fruit. But I was impatient and very hungry.

I knocked and he opened the door. His raccoon like eyes were glistening with yellow puss, as if he had just woken up.

“What's up, Larry boy?” He asked.

I wanted to tell him about the half a kilo of apples. But something crazy struck me. I would ask for all his fruits.

“I will sell them for you.” I said.

“Does your father know of this?”

“Why do you care?” I asked. “I need some money. That's it.”

He eyed me closely.

“Well then.” He said. “Don't sit in the shop. Take my cart and go.”

I helped him fill it up with fruits and vegetables.

“And one condition.” He said. “You give me half of what you earn.”

I grunted angrily and walked out with the cart.

“Oranges, apples and strawberries make you happy and merry!” I walked repeating. It was silly. But I didn't know what to say. It was embarrassing. But I got over it and soon, I was crying out like this was the job I was born to do. I stood outside churches, waiting for the mass to get over. I bargained with people and realized that even those who seemed to live in the church were not so ‘holy' when it came to money.

I was tired.

“Mr Foyer.” I called from his doorstep.

“I knew you would quit.”

But he was punched in the nose by what he saw. The cart was empty.

“What did you do? Don't tell me you lost it in the ditch while climbing the slope.”

“I won't.” I said, showing him the money.

“You've sold all of it?”

“No.” I said. “I ate one of the apples.”

He laughed and gave me a warm hug.

“I'd called your dad.” He said. “You can buy a new uniform. You have his permission. And I don't need half the money. Keep it and spend on yourself.”

Those words resonated in me as I entered the cloth shop. I had lots of extra money. I could buy a uniform and something more. Then I remember him, those blistered feet.

“Those shoes please.” I said.

The shopkeeper looked at me and the shoes repeatedly. We had nothing in common.

“That's going to cost a lot.”

And it did. I was left with pennies in my hollow pocket.

Harry was in bed, dressing his feet.

“Where's the uniform, Larry?” He asked.

I placed the shoes beside him.

“It's for you.”

He gave me the biggest hug I’ve ever received. Those were sneakers, not working boots.  I did not know the difference. But dad was happy that I had understood his problems.