"Quirky Tales"

by Karl Durham

Copyright ©2004
ISBN: 0-87714-910-0 eBook edition
ISBN: 0-87714-337-4 PB edition

All rights reserved by Denlinger's Publishers, including the right to reproduce this electronic book, or portions thereof, in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

THE AUTHOR

The author is a retired psychologist, and thus should know about quirky people. He has worked as a painter, insurance agent, probation officer, waiter, dish washer, hospital orderly, infantryman, military researcher, psychometrist, psychotherapist, hypnotist, group therapist, college lecturer, art curator, and marriage counselor.

He has lived in IL, NY, PA, MO, IA, TN, TX, OH, DC, MD, VA, FL, and WI.

His hobbies included collecting jokes, painting, sculpture, cartooning, accordion and various other instruments, macamé, card tricks, wine and beer brewing, and collecting folk songs.

He married a librarian and they produced five children, one daughter who is a ballet danceuse and masseuse, a son who is a college professor, two other sons who are computer engineers, and another daughter who is a floral designer and artist. His second wife has a degree in musicology, the training of a concert pianist and is an accomplished artist, having exhibited and sold her art work.

He has been writing since he was 17, and created ten novels and one self-help book.

THE BOOK

Whimsies and Quirky Tales will take you on a trip into hope, yearned-for justice, magic, horror and fantasy. If you enjoyed Edgar Allen Poe, Ray Bradbury or the Twilight Zone, you will find escape in these stories of ordinary people living extraordinary lives.

The pit of young Elmer's stomach felt as though a large lump of lead were lodged there. He wiped his perspiring hands as he faced the telephone for the third time. He had to make sure the telephone was free from eavesdropping parents. Luckily he had no brothers or sisters to contend with.

His shaking finger poked Jane's number, and his heart pounded.

The first ring. What if she wasn't home? Maybe she already had a steady boy friend.

The second ring. He rehearsed the words silently. "Would you like to have supper with me at the Chinese restaurant?"

The third ring. Wasn't there anyone home? His throat was choking up. Good grief! I hope my voice doesn't fail me!

The fourth ring. "Hello?" It was an older woman's voice. That must be her mother.

Finally he got the words out. "Could I speak to Jane, please?"

"Just a minute, please."

An agonizing three hours went by. No, it couldn't be that long. Muffled voices in the background and a soft click.

"Hello?" That wonderfully soft voice.

He forced out one word. "Jane?"

"This is Jane."

"I, uh, that is, um, I mean, would you--?"

He replaced the receiver, feeling utterly miserable. He hit his fist against the other hand so hard that it hurt. The same old thing! Why all the stammering? And why, oh, why do I get so teary-eyed?

Wiping a drop from his cheek, he ran up to his room. He opened his billfold and gazed at the eighteen dollars he had saved from his wages as a grocery packer. What if I had managed to talk her into having supper with me and she ordered lobster? With closed eyes he gritted his teeth.

Elmer daydreamed back to the botany field trip. She had straightened up after examining a special wild flower, caught him looking at her, and gave him a charming smile. He was certain she would have been friendly if he had opened up a conversation, but he had made a nervous grimace, retreating to another part of the forest.

Fantasy rewound the film and took him back to another try at getting acquainted. He was witty, she laughed with him and not at him, and soon they were walking hand-in-hand, back to the school bus.

The bubble of this dream popped when the voice of his mother called from downstairs that it was time to set the table for supper.

In the kitchen he looked at the beef stew his mother was stirring and rubbed his stomach. The lump was still there.

"Don't give me much, Mom. I'm not hungry."

"Are you all right, Elmer? Maybe you need a tonic."

"I'm okay. Just not hungry."

He wished she wouldn't mother him so much.

At supper his parents looked at each other and at their son but said nothing.

That evening, doing homework, he found himself reading the same page over and over again. Jane's red hair and engaging smile kept appearing on his mental screen. He made wistful sketches of her in his notebook.

Do I deserve her? Visions of television ads crept into his reverie. He wondered if there were anything to the turnoff of dandruff, bad breath or dingy teeth. Maybe he should try that new crème for zits.

Even if he managed to persuade Jane to go to supper with him, he would be nervous. What girl wants a nervous boy friend? The guys who hung out at the mall could get girls by just curling a finger at them. They didn't agonize over zits or goofing up. What did they have? Confidence.

Monday afternoon he finished his packaging work at the supermarket and headed for home. He was still thinking about Jane and her charming smile, the way her big eyes seemed to say things to him that time in the woods. Not too eager to go directly home, he let himself roam down a street where there was a curio shop he liked. They always had some gadget or puzzle that stirred his imagination.

Inside the place was a not unpleasant aroma of dust and old leather. He went over to the counter where there were items that suggested mysterious and exotic customs. Something different from the usual curios caught his attention. It was a tiny figure, about five inches long, legs straight, arms folded and a serene face that suggested magic and intelligence beyond that of mere mortals.

Elmer's fantasies went off at a gallop, visualizing this mystic idol being carved by a guru in some remote land of ancient magic, formed into the likeness of an arcane deity, dating back to the beginning of time.

"May I help you?" The deep melodious voice of old Mr. Daniels startled him out of his reverie.

"Uh--Oh, I was looking at this carved figure."

"Ah, yes. That arrived just a few days ago from my importer in Guatemala. It is said to have magical qualities."

"Is it some sort of luck charm?"

Mr. Daniels gave him just the hunt of a smile. "Mmm, not exactly. It is reputed to give the owner great self confidence, and that is better than luck."

"How much is it?"

The old man shrugged with a deprecatory, upside down smile. "I'm willing to let it go for--" He sized up the customer. "--say, for five ninety five?"

"I'll take it."

Tucking the graven image in his pocket, he strode forth with head up and a sparkle in his eye. At home he ran inside and found his mother in the kitchen preparing for supper.

"Need help with anything, Mom?"

"You could clean up your room."

"Okay."

"Elmer, are you all right?"

"Sure. I feel fine."

"Well! I'm glad you're over whatever was ailing you yesterday."

"I'm going to call up Jane Armitage and ask her for a date."

"Oh? That'll be nice. Where did you meet her?"

"She's a pretty red-headed girl in my botany class."

"Well, Elmer," beamed his mother, "look out for red heads. They're supposed to have hot tempers "

"No way! Jane is a wonderful girl."

"I was just teasing. Have a good time."

As he dialed Jane's number, he thought: So that was the teasing I was so afraid of! His hands were dry, and he knew his words would come out with ease. He patted his pocket where the figurine rested. It's working!

As soon as he heard Jane's voice, he said, "Here I am again, Elmer, the Persistent. I would like to take you to supper. Do you think you might be hungry by six o'clock, next Friday night?"

"I think that would be very nice."

"I'll pick you up at your house, Friday, at six then."

That evening Elmer found his father watching him as he ate his supper. Finally the older man spoke. "Mom also says you've been acting rather strangely."

Elmer looked at his mother. She nodded.

"And," his father went on, "we both are wondering what happened. Elmer--" The man paused ominously. "You aren't taking drugs or anything?"

"Dad! Of course not! Never fear. I don't need any drugs."

"But you seem so different. What happened?"

He wanted to tell them, but wasn't quite ready to mention his purchase at the curio shop. They would probably dismiss his graven image as superstitious nonsense. Yet he didn't want to lie to them.

"I decided it was high time I was thinking more positively about my self and the world." There, that was vague enough and still close to the facts.

His father smiled with relief. "Your Mom tells me you are trying for a date with a girl you met in your botany class."

"That's right. It's all set for Friday night."

As Elmer left the room, his father murmured, "This younger generation is something else. When I was his age I was terrified of girls."

Friday night at the restaurant, Elmer met with more questions.

"Elmer," Jane said, "Could I ask you something personal?"

"Feel free."

"Did you know that when we were given desks next to each other, I thought you might be fun to know?"

His whole being cried "Wow!" He smiled with pleasure. "No, I never dreamed--!"

"Oh, yes. Then when we met in the woods, I was about to try to get acquainted with you, and suddenly you made a face and literally ran away. Now, you're so different. What happened?"

He looked down and patted his pocket. Should I tell her? He drew out the little figurine.

"Oh!" she cried. "Where did you get that?"

"Picked it up at a curio shop on Bond Street."

"Terrific!" she said happily. "Daddy will be so pleased."

"Daddy? Why should he be pleased?"

"Why wouldn't he be? He carved about a dozen of those little men, hoping Mr. Daniels could sell them."

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