My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "We'll name her Jumping Bean." "No." "Because she's so hyper and bouncy! Like a jumping bean!" "John, there is no way I'm calling our first cat 'Jumping Bean.'" "Okay, fine. Too long? Just 'Bean,' then." "Dude, that's worse!" "All right, then, Mister Name Man. What do you propose?" "I dunno. Lucy, or Callie, or Sadie..." "Names ending in a goofy 'ee' sound? Gimme a break." "Shut up, I'm not done! I was also thinking Zelda..." "Zelda? Like, 'Legend of Zelda' Zelda?" "Yeah, so? What's wrong with that?" "..." "What's wrong with Zelda? She's a BAMF in some of the games, let me remind you. Even though she gets kidnapped. But still." "..." "It's a nice name! I've worked with kids named Zelda!" "...Aaron?...

She was trying to sell me a lemon, and I wasn't going to let it slide. I got back in my finicky truck passed down from my grandfather and rattled my way home, my brother staring at me as I lurched into the driveway. "No car?" he asked as I stepped onto the pavement, pulling off my cap. "Nope. She tried to sell me a lemon." My brother frowned. "Why was she trying to sell you citrus at a car shop?" Yeah, did I mention my brother was kind of an idiot?

I have work tomorrow (still enjoying the job and the people I work with), I'm seeing my sister's play tomorrow night, and I'm moving into a new apartment with my sister and my girlfriend on Sunday. Yeah...no real introspection tonight, guys. Sorry. Captain Cop-out strikes again! But for what it's worth, have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Walnut Avenue by Belinda Roddie Three years ago, I was walking to the liquor store on the corner of Walnut and Glassell when I saw a young, crazed man walk out of a house and smash his guitar into pieces. It was the typical black and white Fender – a Stratocaster, I could only guess – and he swung it into the pavement like a riled up rock star during a wild stadium concert. He kept swinging until he was only holding the snapped neck, and even then he continued to slam the remains into the ground, letting the fretboard split in his hands, the strings stretched taut as he tossed the fragments aside. A girl watched him the whole time from the doorway, blonde and puffy-eyed and looking more than a little numb. As the man turned away from the wreckage and headed back into the house, she let her hand stray for his arm. But he pushed it aside and disappeared into the shadows of the ramshackle shelter. The whole time, he was completely silent. I don’t remember much a...

"Please be sensible." "I am being sensible!" "No, you're not," retorted Ben's sister. "In fact, you're being the opposite of sensible. And it needs to change." "I want to go out for a beer with friends. Is that so hard?" "Yes!" his sister snapped. "Because you spend forty dollars at the end of the night and then refuse to buy groceries!"

My Cousin Stole My Candy by Belinda Roddie My cousin stole my candy after I had finished trick-or-treating. I caught him eating my peanut butter cups outside the bathroom and was ready to punch him right in the nose. My mother, spotting me, reprimanded the both of us and made sure to buy me replacement candy while my cousin surely made plans to, again, filch sweets from me. I would not let that slide - I had worked too hard on my costume, and Halloween was a special holiday for me. So once I got more candy, I not only hid it, but also installed a special device to shock the thief's balls.

I was ready to put the eggs into the incubator when my father stomped in, purple in the face and noticeably sweating from the sideburns down, soaking his neck with his own sea salt. "Forget chicks," he wheezed, wiping his steaming chin with his sleeve. "Your mother wants an omelet, stat." I stared. "Pregnancy cravings?" "A huge fucking omelet!" my father gasped. "Fucking STAT!"