YOLO

A recent grad, Lindsey decides she’d rather do something other than her chosen discipline. Of all the possibilities, a crossword puzzle becomes her muse to a new career prospect.

YOLO

 

Lindsey Carrington had recently graduated with a BA in Art, but now she decides that art is not her thing. Sitting in Café Black Magic, Lindsey scans the help wanted ads for jobs that might prove interesting like something, anything more exciting than still-life canvases and lifeless sculptures. She comes across nothing in the ads and bored, Lindsey begins the crossword puzzle.

As she works through the puzzle while sipping her latte, the puzzle’s solution words begin to shape a story in her mind. It engages her interest and expands her imagination. As she pauses to gather her thoughts, Lindsey glances up to see five scruffy, unkempt young men ramble past the café arguing about Washington’s football team.  Her fingertips begin a tap dance on her tablet to unfold the tale.

*

It was a bright and sunshiny day in a faraway place at another time, a motley band of louts with foul mouths and bad manners snuck across a barbarous landscape. They dropped to prone positions on a knoll overlooking a humble hut. With atrocious appearances in the way of filthy ragged clothes and dirty, sweaty faces, the band of boorish brutes do a clandestine survey of the local wizard’s hut. With a finger to his lips, their leader Klem gestured they wait and watch but being impatient louts, the others began to argue over the preferred method of approaching the perceived dangerous wizard.  Their whispers got louder in seconds.

“Let’s jus’ sneak up on ‘im, then rush in and take ‘im,” suggested one of the brutes who rose up on his hands and knees.

“NO! Down MacGuire!” Hissed Klem. “We know the wizard’s has ‘is tricks.”

“An’ that�"that thing, he has there wit’ him�"always,” whimpered the weedier brute scrunching down flat in the grass and weeds.

At that particular moment, the wizard stepped out of his hut and scanned in their direction. They flattened and wiggled backwards. Peeking through the weeds, they saw the wizard cast a long shadow in the early sun, but their eyes focused on the indistinct shifting appendage on his shoulder.

“Ohhhhhh! Seeeee, he has that thing! I heard that thing�"”

The wizard paused his scanning to focus right on their lookout position.

“Ssssshhhhhh!” Klem shushed. The others hushed up.

                Years ago, Klem had taken the onus of leadership but had a history of haphazard approaches to their modus operandi in their usually ill-fated escapades. The cowardly brutes, now seeing the wizard and his familiar suddenly became unwilling to take on the supposed formidable sorcerer, so they crept back to retreat from the knoll’s crest. Klem felt he had to maintain his authority so made it sound like it was his idea to back off and regroup.

“I gotta’ think on this for a while,” Klem said. “Come men, back to the village,” he commanded. 

                *

                Lindsey senses someone looking at her and glimpses it is a young security guard from the nearby software company. She gives him an easy smile and returns to her enthralling tale.

                *

                The louts straggled along the trail with their tongues lolling about thinking thoughts of frothy pints of ale front and central. At the last turn before the village gate, they stopped short in their tracks. Constable Connor Dugan Mackenzie sat dozing on the bench under a tree oblivious to the louts and the potential storm brewing. The lawman was a sedate, quiet and fair man to the villagers, but in the eyes of the louts on a take, the constable meant trouble. The constable stirred and looked in their direction but nodded back into his nap when Klem raised his palm. He signaled to the others to make for the other entrance to the village which elicited groans because of the added distance to their already taxing terrestrial trek.  

                As the day waned and they finally made their way around to the other entrance, an elderly woman popped her head up with a quake of the berry bushes she was picking from. The louts jolted in surprise.

                “Hey, old hag, don’ go scarin’ workin’ men like that,” shouted Crawley.

                “You ain’t worked a decent day in yer’ worthless life, Crawley,” she cackled. “I should know I’m your Auntie Mame!”

                “Heh, heh, I ‘member. Yer’ an old hag,” he sniggered looking to his pals for support, but they backed off not wanting to get involved in Crawley’s interfamily squabbles.

                With that, the feisty old woman reached into her basket, pulled out a pewter plate and whipped it at Crawley like a Frisbee.  Clunk! It hit him in the forehead, and he went down like a sack of taters.

                “Anyone else think I’m a hag?”

                “No, Miz!” They all chimed in while dragging Crawley to his feet.

                “Come yous, leave ‘er be,” said Klem, giving the auntie a wide berth. 

By the looks and actions of the others, Klem began to think they would soon forsake him. He had no latent security in them following him, so as they continued on, he decided to tell a risqué and humorous antidote about cats and dogs living together. With a few chuckles and healthy hee-haws, they finally reached the rowdy pub named appropriately, “The Sozzled Sow,” a place they were very familiar with. After swilling a few buckets of rancid ale, they formed a huddle so no one would hear their underhanded plans; however, the atmosphere in the raucous place proved so loud they could barely hear each other not that the horde of drunkards in The Sow had any desire whatsoever to listen in on the louts’ scheme.

*  

Lindsey takes a deep breath as she stares at the words she has written. A serene satisfied smile forms. Her friend Joyce happens by with a cheerful greeting and begins reading over her shoulder.

“What are you working on so intently Lindsey? Oh, so you’re taking up writing fiction now?”

Lindsey nods with a non-verbal affirmative.

“Soooooo, why is this mob after the wizard?” Joyce asks. “What is their motivation? What do they expect to gain from the wizard? Are they going to kill him or try to get his powers? What can the wizard do to them anyway? What can he conjure up?”

“STOP THAT!” Lindsey shouts.  “Sorry. I don’t have all the answers yet.” Lindsey says. “I have these words I’m using to form the story, and it just comes to me as I ponder each word.” She hands Joyce the puzzle which the other young woman quickly scans.

“Holocaust?” Joyce says, pointing to the puzzle. “How could you possibly work in Nazis and the persecution of the Jewish during World War II into this story? It’ll mean a full stop to your story.”

“You are so short-sighted. Holocaust means many other things as well,” Lindsey says over her shoulder. “Now let me think�"and work. I like this writing business�"maybe I’ll take it up as a career.”

“Hmmm, really?” Joyce says. “Seems to me you’ll be wasting your hard-earned diploma, Lindsey, but hey, it’s your life.”  

Lindsey turns around and looks her square in the eyes. “Well, you only live once. Everyone should make the best of their lives by exploring all their options, otherwise you’ll never know.”

“Yes, I s’pose you’re right about that,” Joyce says introspectively. “I’ve been mired down in my dead end job for some time now and not liking it at all.” She thinks a second. “Good for you Lindsey, go for it! I’ll let you get back to your story.”  She turns and walks to the waiting barista.

Holocaust indeed, Lindsey thinks.  With a new insight, she begins again.

*

The rowdy atmosphere in the “The Sozzled Sow” reached a breaking point when Maguire of the louts stood up for another ale but passed out right away falling backwards onto another patron. This other inebriated man took it as an attack and punched Maguire as he went down. The louts all jumped on this patron while the patron’s pals counterattacked. This soon had the entire rabble engaged in fisticuffs. Someone smashed a lantern spilling burning oil on the floor and the pub became a raging holocaust. As the drunks ran out of the pub with the villagers running in to fight the fire, the louts gathered themselves up and made out the back door right smack dab into Constable Mackenzie.

“’’Ey you five there, what‘s yer’darn awful hurry? Stop in yer tracks!” the constable shouted. The louts stopped. Then, with a finger point back to The Sozzled Sow, he asked, “you cause this?”

“Who, usssh?” Maguire asked, sporting a blossoming black eye. “We ain’t done nuthin’ bad�"wrong, just trying to avoid trouble, you know�"Conssshtable?” 

Klem gave Maguire the evil eye.

“Shore, law abiders all o’ ya.’ Maybe I ought to throw you in the slammer jus’ to make sure.”

“Now, that ain’t necessary, sir. We be goin’ home to sleep it off. No trouble from us at all, none t’all,” Klem calmly said. He held up a hand, and the constable backed away. “You can just let us go.”

“Wellll, maybe-I �"can-just-let you-go,” the constable repeated.

The weedy lout reached into his pocket. “I gots this five quid for a ya’�"ooof!” Klem elbowed him in the gut. “Whaaat? Only a donation for the good constable�"ooof!”   

“Thanks’ for lettin’ us go,” Klem said, without waiting for the constable to regain his wits. He grabbed the weed’s sleeve and made a dive for an alley with the four others in tow.  

Villagers running toward the blaze paid them no attention as they staggered along in an inebriated meandering path. Klem decided to rally his boorish band and channel their energies toward his intended goal.

“Now gents, we know what we fancy and that skinny fella’ down in that hut has what we need…”

“Yah!” Crawley said excitedly but then sobered. “‘Cept he’s not jus’ any skinny fella’, Klem!”

“OHHhhohhh, and that ting’ he’s got wit’ ‘im,” whined the weed.

“Forget ‘bout that blasted thing!” Klem said too loud and caught himself.  “That wizard ain’t all that powerful, I could�"” He paused and restarted. “Imagine what life will be like when we get�"it.”

“YAAAA! We be rich! No, we be respected! Maybe we rule this place!” Each of the louts suggested.

“Shhhhh. Shore, all of those things, but first we’ll be powerful enough to get those things,” Klem said. “We must make it our mission to come up with a better plan�"than like before.”

*

The late shift barista comes around the café to wipe down the tables, and Lindsey picks up her tablet to hold in her lap as the barista cleans her table. Lindsey tips her tablet up when the barista seems a bit too interested. They exchange looks, but they both turn away when the UPS guy comes in with a delivery of coffee beans. Lindsey notices her hands tremble probably from too much caffeine�"or is it excitement? She adds a couple thoughts to her arsenal as a Prius drives by.

*

The next day, the wizard busied himself about his hut with his ever-present familiar on his shoulder. He picked up his crystal ball from the table and applied a fine polish to it with a soft rag. With a bit of underlying paranoia over dirt, he worked all morning on cleaning. As overhead sun time approached, the wizard’s focus on cleaning waned with a rumble of his stomach.

“Oh, time to eat,” he said to his familiar but was interrupted by a knock on his door. “Wonder who that could be? We never get visitors anymore.” 

“I have a package for you,” he heard the breathless voice say nervously.

“Indeed? You must be mistaken,” the wizard said to the door.

“No mistake. You are the wizard on Tinderbox Lane, aahhh, ah, we ALL know who ‘ya are.” The voice said. “I will leave it here on your stoop�"here�"sir.”

The wizard heard the package hit the ground and then running steps retreat until out of earshot.  He took a couple steps to the door, opened it, and there a package sat untidily wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. The wizard only saw a fleeting glimpse of the person who had delivered it disappear over the knoll. His familiar creature hovered nearby eying the package with suspicion. The wizard carried the package inside and set it on the table.

“It can wait until after the noonsy meal,” the wizard said, preparing his simple lunch.  

As he ate his triticale mash, the wizard eyed the package and thought perhaps it was from his erstwhile apprentice as a peace offering though it had been an awfully long time�"how long? He never got over his apprentice’s betrayal that came out of nowhere, and the incident severely affected his standing in the region. He had realized early on that the lad’s ability in the art had proved laughable, and he gave up on the lad. On the small stove, with a crackle of static the creature heated up a bit of the meat that the wizard had set out for him. The wizard chuckled at the sight.

“Sorry ole boy,” the wizard apologized. “I was side-tracked thinking on this package.”  

On the other hand, he thought, the lad proved handy around the cook stove always baking up something sweet with an extensive menu of savory treats. After the meal and still thinking about the treats, he thought he’d bake up a sweet potato pie. The creature watched as the wizard assembled his needed ingredients. A loud noise erupted outside causing the wizard to jump in reaction. The flour bag he had just hoisted hit the floor with an explosive, “poof!”  The white cloud coated his face, the creature, and his hut before the familiar flew out the window to investigate. The sight of the mess momentarily turned the normally stalwart wizard into jelly, and it took his utmost forbear not to immediately begin to clean up, but the ruckus outside drew his attention there. With a crackle of electricity along with a resounding human “yeow!” he knew instantly what was going on out there.  Abruptly, the door flew open and saw a recognizable figure intrude upon his disgrace.

“YOU!” The wizard exclaimed . “What are YOU doing here?”

*

“Sorry, but it’s seven, and we’re closing,” says the barista.

Lindsey just notices that it is getting dark outside her glass enclosure.  She looks at her last word and the last few words she needs to finish her tale.

“Just a little while longer? I have a few thoughts to get down,” she says, pointing to her tablet.

“Hmmmm, sure,” the Barista says, heading to the door. “I have more to clean, but I’ll lock up. When you’re ready to go, just let me know.”

*

The five louts formed a circle around the wizard who stood a full head above them.  They backed off momentarily taking in his white, flour-covered face before they got a hold of themselves. The wizard glanced about and realized his hut wasn’t as cozy as before with flour covering everything and overcrowded with louts.

“What did you do with Griff?” He demanded.

With a tooth-gapped grin, the weedy lout held up a squirming burlap sack. He dropped his grin and yelled in conjunction with a crackle of static erupting from the sack.
                “Yow! What is ‘dis thing? YOW!”

“Griff is a hybrid, and he won’t hurt you if I tell him so,” stated the wizard authoritatively. “You’d better want me to tell him so, or there will be hell to pay!”

“I tol’ ya’ Klem, YOW!” Shouted the weed as more sparks flew. “YOW!”

*

Lindsey looks up to see the barista finish cleaning the espresso machine.  The barista sees Lindsey looking at her.

“Ready to go?”

“Not quite, are you?”

The barista shakes her head as she dumps a tray of leftover pastries into a trashcan. Lindsey suddenly becomes ravenous but continues her work.

 *

“Klem? Is that you?” Asked the wizard examining the head lout closer. “You�"you are old!”

“You should talk wiz!” Klem replied. “It’s been ten years since I worked with you.”

The other louts stared at Klem askance as the wizard pondered what would improve the situation and get his familiar back in one fell swoop. He recalled the slab of meat on the stove from before; he wondered if he could entice and throw the louts off their guard. His actions had to be immediate and precise.

“Did you send this package?” The wizard asked, gesturing at the wrapped package. “I wish it were some of your treats, but it must be another of your ill thought-out schemes. Let me guess,” he said, putting a finger to his forehead.  “Aromatic sleep-inducing moss?”   

“Klem!” Exclaimed Crawley. “He can read our minds or�"see inta’ package!”

“Naaahhh,” Klem said uneasily. “Just a lucky guess.”

Behind his back, the wizard pointed to the stove and the meat began to sizzle and cook. He knew the smell of the meat cooking would stimulate the louts’ appetites and provide him an opening. 

“Whoa! Hows’ that happin?”  Maguire asked, pointing at the stove, “but it smells really good.”

The wizard eyed the sack that held Griff, and saw the louts’ faces showed a mixture of fear, confusion, and hunger. He calculated an estimate of how long the impasse would last. He knew that Klem was pigheaded and the others seemed to obey his orders, but he had nothing to fear from his old apprentice.  A solution was feasible if he could get Griff to assist him in his hasty plan.

“Griff?” The wizard said calmly. “Griff, are you all right in there? Are you hungry?!” He added with a sudden excited tone.

Inside the sack, Griff let out an ear-splitting squawk, and in response, the thugs jolted with surprise though the sticky standoff for the moment seemed to remain the same. The wizard gained an appropriation of fortitude and rushed the weedy lout, ripped open the sack, and released Griff. The hybrid familiar flew up and behind the louts and began shooting sparks at their butts causing them to hoot and holler. At that moment, the wizard whipped up an unexpected phenomenal force that blew the louts down to the floor except for Klem. Defiantly, Klem stood there with a palm held up vertically that seemed to deflect the wizard’s power from his person. The wizard’s brow furrowed, and he leaned into it. Klem followed suit.

Flour whirled in the air. Chairs flung over. Pans rattled and pots clanged. Griff flapped hard to fight the sorcery storm. The package slid off the table, bashed against the wall and burst open, spilling its contents. The louts on the floor began to get drowsy, but the wizard and his old apprentice grimly stood an arm’s breadth apart with focused concentration deeply etched on their faces. The indoor tumult built in roaring violent intensity. From the floor, the dazed louts watched awestruck.

“I never thought you had it in you apprentice!” The wizard shouted over the storm’s roar.

“You never gave me a chance!” Klem yelled back. “You said I would never amount to a thing!”

“So! You must have been practicing!” The wizard shouted. “I am impressed with your ability and I desist,” he said. Griff squawked in alarm. The wizard dropped his hand and was bowled over by Klem’s magical ability. The elderly sorcerer went down to his hands and knees.  Klem dropped his hand and the whirling commotion subsided. The wizard looked up to him.

 “Klem, I am sorry for the past. I respect you, wizard.” 

 “Thank you sir, that’s all I wanted from you.”

“How’s ‘dis? I thought we was gonna take the wizard’s magic wand,” Crawley said in the calm.

The louts’ fate was sealed when Constable Connor burst through the door behind them.  Klem helped the wizard up, and they gripped hands in peace. Griff emitted a joyous squawk when the constable herded the four out the door. With an unruly fumble of arms and legs, the louts stumbled out of the wizard’s hut with Griff still spitting sparks causing them to howl and jump in pain. The wizard and Klem laughed out loud.

“Klem, I truly apologize. You are welcome back here,” the wizard said. “After all, you only live once, and we aren’t getting any younger. We need to make amends and share everything as partners. ”

“Indeed, wizard, I’d like that, but right now, I need to support my band. I owe them that much,” Klem said, leaving the hut.

*

“Lindsey, I have to leave now, which means you have to go,” the barista says at the door.

Lindsey nods, rubs her sore eyes, and turns off her tablet. As she heads for the front door, she thinks her story had unfolded rather easily and wonders how her own life story might unfold if she changes her thing for good.

*

 In the meantime…