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Miniatures: The Very Short Fiction of John Scalzi

Page 9

by John Scalzi


  “So, selling much lemonade?” I asked.

  “Some,” he said. “Well within our sales projections for this month. Lower summer temperatures have depressed the lemonade market in general, and last winter’s citrus freeze meant higher overhead. We’ve had to pass some of the cost on to the consumer.”

  “No kidding,” I said.

  He shot me a look. “Fortunately, we have some leeway thanks to a subsidy from a regulatory entity.”

  “The Department of Agriculture?”

  “No, our mom.” The little girl came back. She didn’t look happy.

  “You missed a payment on a JC Penny credit card eight years ago,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell us about that earlier?”

  “What’s the big deal?” I said. “I made a double payment the next month. And anyway, it was eight years ago. You were a gamete eight years ago.”

  “Well, I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to offer you a line of credit,” she said. “You’re just not an acceptable risk for us.”

  “Fine,” I said. “You know what? I’m going to that other lemonade stand. You kids are about to learn a lesson about the free market.” I walked down the street to the other stand. There was a cheerful little tyke there with an appealing smile.

  “How much for the lemonade?” I asked.

  “It’s just a quarter,” he said.

  “Great,” I said. “I’ll take a cup.”

  “Oh, you want a cup?” he asked. “The cup is $2.50.”

  The final piece in this collection is both the earliest piece written—it’s from 1991—and is different in form (it’s a poem) and tone (it’s not funny, at least not intentionally), but I like it and I think it’s okay to exit on a change-up. The character in the poem is Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, and it helps to know a little about The Odyssey before reading. I wrote it for a girl, of course. It didn’t work. But not long after that I met the woman who is now my wife, so I’m fine with that. And I still like the poem. I hope you like it too.

  Penelope

  I.

  There is no difference between far and near.

  Perspective is all

  A mountain and a rock that falls from its incline

  Are shaped by the same forces

  Separated only by scale

  And the attentions of the observer.

  I keep this in mind as I unravel my work

  And tear it down to its component thread.

  Today’s design was a masterpiece

  Hours of planning and execution

  Done in by a casual pull at the end of the day.

  It is no matter.

  The action is lost in the larger scope

  Today’s destruction a building block

  For a greater work.

  Down the hall voices call to me

  Insistent suitors demand my presence.

  Soon enough I will join them

  Some honest enough, others something less

  They will ask about the progress of my work

  And I will tell them that it remains unfinished.

  We will not be talking of the same work

  But it is no matter.

  There is no difference between far and near.

  Perspective is all.

  II.

  I don’t know whether to blame you or your stupid war.

  It is easiest to blame the war

  The insistent beating drum

  The pretense of noble purpose

  Masking banality so insipid

  As to stagger the observer.

  But you were always one of the best

  Not the strongest, but the smartest

  Not forceful, but with a craft

  That became its own definition.

  You, who upstaged ten years of anguish

  With one night and a gift.

  You are magnificent

  A prize for poets.

  It’s hard to understand how one of your talents

  Has managed to stay from me for so long.

  I imagined your return so soon after your victory

  A homecoming which would shine to the heavens

  Pure in its emotion and joy.

  Yet now you are as far away as when you began

  Your arrival a distant dream

  Your homecoming unfulfilled.

  Your war is over

  But you are not home.

  If there is blame

  It is yours.

  But it is no matter.

  It makes no sense to talk of blame

  When circumstances rule the day

  No sense for anger

  When chance plots your course

  Whatever mysteries you hide from me

  I know your heart.

  Your homecoming lives there

  Waiting to come true.

  It lives in my heart too

  Two views of the same moment

  Two dreams with the same end.

  III.

  My suitors engage me in idle banter.

  I am sometimes painted as a noble sufferer

  Enduring unwanted attentions

  But in truth, I enjoy the diversions

  My suitors entertain me, amuse me

  And no few arouse me

  Their endless chatter every now and then

  Showing promise of something greater

  Of depths that dare to be plumbed.

  They appear worthy suitors

  And indeed some of them are

  But there is not one who shines so bright

  As to dim the memory of you.

  The curves of their arms and legs

  Call to mind your own sweet body

  Their lips and eyes

  Recall your own gentle face

  Your voice

  Calls distantly from their throats.

  Every one that comes to me

  To cajole, whisper or impress

  Becomes a window

  Through which I see you.

  I smile frequently when I am with my suitors

  And they smile back

  Convinced that the pleasure in my eyes

  Is brought by their form.

  But it is not them I see.

  Perspective is all.

  IV.

  My work is now unraveled

  And my intentions secure for another day.

  Tomorrow I will create another

  And unravel it, each tomorrow

  Until you return to my shore.

  It is a difficult task

  Building a creation from which

  All that is seen is its daily destruction.

  It is a work that only I can see

  Its completion a thing only I desire.

  It is no matter.

  There is no difference between far and near

  Perspective is all.

  Perhaps from the distance where you are

  You can see my larger work.

  Use it as your beacon

  And have your homecoming at last.

  Copyright Information

  “Alien Animal Encounters” Copyright © 2001 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Strange Horizons, October 2001.

  “Missives from Possible Futures #1: Alternate History Search Results” Copyright © 2007 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Subterranean Magazine, February 2007.

  “Pluto Tells All” Copyright © 2007 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Subterranean Magazine, May 2007.

  “Denise Jones, Superbooker” Copyright © 2008 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Subterranean Magazine, September 2008.

  “When the Yogurt Took Over” Copyright © 2010 by John Scalzi. First appeared on Whatever, October 2010. http://whatever.scalzi.com/2010/10/02/when-the-yogurt-took-over-a-short-story/

  “The Other Large Thing” Copyright © 2011 by John Scalzi. First appeared on Twitter, via TweetDeck’s Deck.Ly, August 5, 2011.

  “The State of Super Villainy” Copyright © 2008 by John Scalzi. First appeared on Whatever, Dece
mber 2008. http://whatever.scalzi.com/2008/12/08/a-story-for-a-donation-fiction-to-help-save-an-sf-writers-home/

  “New Directive for Employee-Manxtse Interactions” Copyright © 2005 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Sketches of Daily Life: Two Missives From Possible Futures, Subterranean Press, 2005.

  “To Sue the World” Copyright © 2012 by John Scalzi. First appeared on promotional tour for Redshirts, 2012. First available as an ebook Subterranean Press, 2015.

  “How I Keep Myself Amused on Long Flights: A Twitter Tale” Copyright © 2013 by John Scalzi. First appeared on Twitter, April 20, 2013.

  “How I Keep Myself Amused on Long Flights, Part II: The Gremlining” Copyright © 2014 by John Scalzi. First appeared on Twitter, April 10, 2014.

  “Life on Earth: Human-Alien Relations” Copyright © 2008 by John Scalzi. First appeared in Subterranean Press Newsletter, 2008.

  “Morning Announcements at the Lucas Interspecies School for Troubled Youth” Copyright © 2010 by John Scalzi. First appeared at w00tstock, 2010. First time in print in this volume.

  “Your Smart Appliances Talk About You Behind Your Back” Copyright © 2016 by John Scalzi.

  “The AI are Absolutely Positively Without a Doubt Not Here to End Humanity, Honest” Copyright © 2016 by John Scalzi.

  “Important Holidays on Gronghu” Copyright © 2016 by John Scalzi.

  “Cute Adorable Extortionists” Copyright © 1998 by John Scalzi. First appeared in American Online, 1998.

  “Penelope” Copyright © 1991 by John Scalzi.

 

 

 


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