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    Dreaming Rodin
    Dreaming Rodin
    Dreaming Rodin
    Ebook163 pages2 hours

    Dreaming Rodin

    By John M. Flynn

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Thoughtful, hopeful, at times gritty and comical, this short story collection delights in examining the lives of humble characters in oddball but everyday circumstances.

    There is an old-fashioned honesty in Flynn's work that reflects our common humanity. The author mirrors the commonplace, the foibles, and struggles of individuals seeking ways to resolve inevitable crises and disturbances.

    The writing is firm and poetic throughout, creating a total collection that is a rare gem from start to finish.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateNov 11, 2013
    ISBN9780985050481
    Dreaming Rodin

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      Book preview

      Dreaming Rodin - John M. Flynn

      Rodin

      Pluto on Sundays

      One day Momma would yank his arm out of its socket and there’d be no one around to pick it up.

      Momma yanked him again. Move it I said. She ain’t waiting all day.

      Rollo pulled away from his mother. The concrete stairs smelled of cat fur and piss and boiled cabbage. He soared off those stairs as if they were an airport runway. He was riding in his spaceship. Momma would never find him.

      Rollo watched his mother climb. She stopped to catch her breath before moving on. Her bum chewed at black stretch pants. Smelled funny and he didn't like following it. He stopped and stared at the cinderblock wall of the stairway. Ran his index finger along grooves between each block. These blocks were glazed with a thick clear material he didn't know the name for. Such a material could protect an earthling from alien laser beams. He'd ask his father about it. Maybe he could paint some of it onto his skin.

      His spaceship was running well this morning. It took him far from his dumb brown suit and tie. Dumb brown Hush Puppies that made his feet sweat. Too darn bad was all Momma said whenever he complained about dressing up on Sunday.

      Her words echoed between his ears. Too darn bad. Too darn bad.

      He kicked a stair, scuffing his shoe. His spaceship had landed. He had Momma’s attention.

      Do you know what those cost me? She glared at him. Any idea?

      He flinched as she raised her hand. Then he hurried up the stairs one flight after another, down a long corridor until he reached Nona’s steel door. Last one on the left. The tiny lens in its center was the eye of an alien sentry. He wasn’t tall enough to spy through it.

      Nona sat in a vinyl chair that smelled like model airplane glue. Rollo thought about his newest model, a replica of the Apollo 11 lunar module. Gold foil and American flag decals had been his favorite finishing touches. If only he could fly in that module all the way to the moon.

      Instead, he floated near Nona who had stopped knitting. Her bun of silver hair held back by a strange wooden object that pierced the bun sideways. Rollo thought it strange that only Nona, who was Momma’s mother, used such a contraption. He was certain it was radar antenna. Nona was an alien from Pluto.

      He smiled at her. Don't worry, Nona, it's okay, I won't tell nobody.

      Nona smiled back at him, laughing softly the way she always did.

      Rollo knew he should hug her, but he didn’t want to. No telling what alien powers she’d unleash if he got too close.

      He played spy. Somebody had to do it or else Plutonians would take over.

      He snooped around to see if anything was different. Nope. Dust on the screen meant the TV still didn’t work. The TV at home was busted, too.

      Matching the chair and hard as a stump to sit on was a vinyl sofa covered with clear plastic. Above the sofa hung a painting of Jesus, another alien. Jesus had dreamy hair and eyes, and a beard. He held out dreamy arms to put the earth into a trance. In his magic white robe made of plutonian fabrics, he floated over an alien place named Italia where Plutonians like Nona had once lived before being sent to America to work as spies.

      Rollo didn’t like the Jesus painting. Too spooky. Church had been spooky, too. Earlier that morning, he and Momma had gone to a new one, the big stone cathedral closer to Nona's apartment. He’d watched old city cathedral people mumbling in the dark, the air smelling of potions. A wizard in purple robes had drunk blood from a big gold cup. Called himself a priest, said his name was Father Deloria, and he shook people's hands at a door that stood as tall as the sky. Rollo knew a thing or two about these crafty wizards disguised as city priests, and he'd refused to shake Deloria’s hairy red hand.

      In the car, Momma had scolded him for that refusal, and he'd argued he'd been afraid of the priest and the high walls of that church and the blood and the cold and the spooky smells in the darkness. Momma had rolled her eyes and explained that blood was really wine, a symbol of Christ and truth, but Rollo knew better. It was Plutonian vampire blood. Only wizards like Deloria could drink it without being poisoned.

      Rollo sauntered toward the window that gave Nona’s apartment its only natural light. The blinds were up, the draperies drawn. He stared down at an asphalt yard bordered by a high chain-link fence. Along one stretch of fence sat a burned-out car without tires. This yard scared him. It was off-limits. Even his mother knew alien warlords held target practice there.

      Rollo.

      He turned around and faced her.

      What are you doing?

      His mother's stomach was round like a lollipop, getting rounder every day.

      Just what is wrong with you? She used a familiar tone that meant she really didn't want an answer. Get your fanny over here and kiss your Nona hello.

      Rollo inched closer to Nona. White hairs in her chin reminded him of the claws in his cat, Doom, who was no doubt chasing chipmunks in the yard at home. Rollo wished he could be with Doom.

      The white hairs in Nona's chin were transistor wires for long distance communication to Pluto. Nona smelled like Plutonian air-freshener that came in an aerosol can. He didn’t want to hug her. Not now, maybe later.

      Momma grabbed his shoulders and walked him to Nona. This way, Buster.

      Chilly sweat leaked from his forehead. He thought of the burnt car outside. He was getting a message. It was from Venus. The car was a spaceship from Venus that Plutonian marauders had fired at with lasers until it crashed. No, he didn’t want to hug Nona. No way. Nona, Plutonian, spy—they were all one and the same.

      He wanted to fly to Venus and report on the downed spaceship. He closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma of sauce from the kitchen. Heard it bubbling on the stove. Opened his eyes to see Momma waddling away in her stretch pants. Was there really going to be yet another Shea baby in the house? Rollo counted on his fingers. One more would make six Shea babies. Wow. Almost enough for a baseball team.

      I’ll turn down the gas, Ma.

      Rollo heard a clomping sound from the kitchen as Momma removed a pot from the burner. They were going to poison him again with that heavy sauce with chunks of soft meat. Every time he ate it, he farted all night. Slept for a long time and woke up in the middle of a deserted galaxy. They wouldn’t poison him this time.

      Boogers, cried Rollo. The word had come to him as a command from the higher galactic court of the peace-loving Venusians. A green sound and the Venusians loved anything green. Their whole planet, even their skin, was green.

      Boogers and snots, and snots and boogers. Booger, booger...booger...goo!

      Rollo, so help me God I’ll wallop you from here to kingdom come. Momma fumed into the living room, hands on her hips. Kiss your grandmother hello. How many times do I have to say it?

      I don't want to!

      Kiss her before I slap you into next week.

      He didn't want to be slapped. Hated the slapping. So he made himself ready. At least he’d sent the Venusian booger message.

      He smiled at the glassy shine in his grandmother’s eyes. Her blue cardigan smelled like mothballs.

      Momma’s hand came down like a brick against his neck. Rollo wanted to cry, but the Venusian overlord appeared and reminded him he was too big for that sort of thing.

      Momma marched him into Nona’s lap and held him there. Nona squeezed his arms. Rollo liked the heat in Nona's dry hands. He could smell her menthol ointment.

      "Ah manudgah," sighed Nona. Her Plutonian words and accent were strange; Rollo seldom understood them. Few Plutonians spoke clear English. They preferred a code through their antenna systems.

      Momma lowered herself into the vinyl sofa. It made a farting sound. Rollo laughed at Momma with her big stomach getting in the way.

      Ma, this couch is awful. Let's get you a new one.

      Nona smiled and waved her hand at Momma as if to say don't be silly.

      Rollo was tired of his mother. She must have been tired of him, too. She started talking to Nona in a strange adult code as if he wasn’t even there.

      Now and then, Rollo understood some of the code and listened in.

      Mike had to work late last night, said Momma. He's exhausted. So am I. The baby's fine. All the kids are great, Ma, but they're wearing me out. Mike's a saint. He and Lorraine took them all to look at a new station wagon. Lorraine’s practically family these days. I just needed a break. Mike wants to get one with wood on its sides. I'm at the end of my rope. Number One over there has been just too much of a handful and I don’t know why. He’s driving me nuts, Ma. Hasn’t been the same since I let him stay over with his cousins, and that sister-in-law of mine. Mike says his sister has nothing to do with it. He says I’m overreacting. But you know what they say. You can pick your friends, but you can't pick family.

      Nona nodded and grinned, adding not a word.

      Ma, she told Mike I don't raise my kids right. You know her little ones aren’t exactly a bargain, either. I mean, they’re good kids. She’s just so ditzy, that’s all. I think she did or said something to Number One over there. I don’t know, Ma. I just don’t know anymore.

      Nona looked bored.

      Maybe we'll come visit you all of us, together, at the end of the month. Like I said, Mike is dying for a new wagon. He’s been saving for a year. I can't wait. He'll take us all out for a ride. Would you like that?

      Nona looked impressed. She sat up straighter.

      Momma smiled, but it faded quickly.

      I'm sorry, Ma, I can't complain, not really. Mike's great. But sometimes, I don't know, I can't take it. My hips, my back, I’m so tired all the time. I don’t know how you did it with all of us, and I’ve got half as many. Don’t get me wrong. I love them, I really do, and Number Two and Three and Four they make me so happy, but Number One these days, he’s just gone crazy. I don't get him. I thought my first was supposed to be a little angel, but he'll be the death of me yet, I swear. And to think, I was hoping he’d be a priest one day.

      Nona’s stomach sounded a rumble. This piqued Rollo’s attention. He didn’t comprehend the sound. It was more Plutonian code. He noticed Nona rubbed her ears often. This, too, was code. He was on to something but didn't quite grasp its meaning. He felt cramped in his suit. Then it occurred to him. Nona knew he was listening and she was using an alien form of hypnosis that put little boys into a trance.

      He bolted into his spaceship. Destination: Venus.

      Rollo imagined himself as Captain Kirk at the console of the starship Enterprise. He could see the lush vegetation of Venus approaching. Smiling green creatures with webbed feet crept out from behind bushes to greet him. There were no cars on Venus. Earthlings could walk barefoot on grass, and swim all day in water so clean you could see clear to the sandy bottom.

      The creatures led him to a royal chamber with high walls painted sea green. After such a long

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