TUESDAY TALES - GLUED

 

Welcome! This week we have a less-charged episode of "The Painting". Thee word prompt is glued. Don't forget to hop on over and read the wonderful stories by the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find those stories HERE. 

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He pulled out his phone. “I can get the painting to you the week after,” Reid said.

“We’ll meet here again. Same bench? Next Thursday. Gotta be noon, though,” Sandy said.

“Noon works.” He made a notation in his calendar. “You can replicate the painting exactly?” 

“Yes.”

He pushed to his feet. "Next time I'll bring my dog. Do you want money upfront?”

“When it’s done.”

He moved toward the gate. Sandy stood and stretched.

A loud growl followed by a bark drew their attention. A small, white, fluffy little dog came tear-assing down the dog run toward Reid with a mammoth German Shepherd racing in hot pursuit.

The little pooch leaped into the air, right at Reid, who caught him and chested the small animal. He turned his back to the shepherd. The larger animal came around and lunged toward the little dog, but Reid turned again, keeping the little one out of reach. “Call off your dog!” he hollered as the little dog trembled in Reid's arms. During his next attempt by the shepherd to get at his prey, he nipped Reid, drawing blood. He raised his foot and shoved the dog in the chest. About that time a young man came running.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he grabbed the shepherd’s collar.

“He bit me!” Reid raised his arm to examine the slow ooze of blood from his wrist.

“My dog! Pookie!” A white-haired woman, out of breath, ran up. She snatched the dog from Reid’s grasp. “Baby, are you all right?”

After a quick examination of her pooch, she turned a scowl on the young man. “You better keep that monster under control or I’m gonna call the police.”

“I’m sorry. He likes to chase small dogs. He just got away from me. He wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Reid cocked an eyebrow. “He’d have eaten that dog if given half a chance.”

The woman clutched her dog to her considerable bosom and faced Reid. “Thank you so much, Mister. You saved my dog.”

“It’s nothing.”

Sandy reached into her purse and pulled out a frilly, white cotton handkerchief. “Here,” she said thrusting it into his hand. He wound it around his small cut. “It’s getting stained. I’ll replace it.”

“Don’t bother.”

Reid glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. A week from Thursday. Right here,” he said.

Sandy nodded. “Yes. Right here.”

“Goodbye.” Holding the cloth tightly to his wrist, Reid Carpenter Clark turned on his heel and strode out of the dog run, heading for Riverside Drive.

With eyes glued to his back, Sandy spoke aloud to herself. “Huh. Hates Jews, loves dogs. Go figure.” She shook her head, then ambled along the winding path toward downtown.  

That's it. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - BOIL

 

Welcome! We have a less controversial episode from "The Painting" today. I hope this story doesn't offend you. It's a complex story and much will be revealed later on. I may discontinue this story within a week or two because it does push the envelope regarding prejudice. 

When you finish this piece, hop on over and read the stories by the great Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE. 

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She arrived at the dog run with five minutes to spare. She didn’t see him, so she took a seat on a bench near the gate. 

“You’re early,” a masculine voice broke into her thoughts. She turned to see Reid Carpenter Clark.

“Where’s the painting?” She tilted her chin up to make eye contact.

“I told you I thought we ought to share it. Since I brought it home in first class, I thought I should get the first turn.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Not really. It cost me extra to bring it home without a scratch. I thought a month would do.”

“What?”

“I’ll keep it a month, then you can have it for a month.”

“This is crazy.”

He pulled out his wallet then sat his tall frame down next to her. He counted out ten one-hundred dollar bills. “Here you go. Your bounty.”  

She pushed his hand away. “I don’t want the money. I want the painting. I saw it first. I bought it first.”

“Perhaps. But I have it now. Technically, I could force you to take me to court. I’m sure a judge would think a profit of eight hundred dollars on what some would consider a mediocre piece of art should make you happy.”

“It’s not about the money. I’ll give you your hundred bucks back.”

“I don’t want the money.”

“Neither do I,” she said.

“Really?” He turned away from her.

“You think because I’m Jewish I’d take the money? Is that it?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“Why you dirty son-of-a-bitch!” She shoved his shoulder. He almost fell off the bench. “You antisemitic piece of crap!” Her blood boiled. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and moved away.

“That’s all you can say? I want that painting. It’s mine.”

He stood in silence.  

“I’ll keep it for a month. Then you can have it for a month.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you reproduce it?” he asked. “That way we can both have it.”

“What?”

“You’re an artist, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Looked you up on Google.”

“So?” She shifted on the bench, moving over to let him sit down again.

“Sorry about the comment. My upbringing,” he said, easing down next to her.

“Yeah, well that's an excuse when you’re nine-years-old. But not at this age.?”

“I’ll give you the painting if you produce a copy for me.”

“You want me to copy the painting?”

“Do whatever you artists call it.” He crossed his legs.

“But I get paid for painting.”

“Pay you?”

“You want me to put aside paying business to reproduce that painting.”

“Okay, then how about the thousand dollars?”

“How about three?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Three thousand dollars for a painting that cost two hundred originally?”

“Yep. That’s my price.”

“Shylock,” he muttered, reaching into his back pocket.

She slapped him across the face. Reid bolted from the bench.

“Don’t you ever call me that again. I get paid a lot of money for my artwork.”

He rubbed his jaw. “That’s assault.”

“Yeah? Call the cops. I’ll tell them you stole my painting.”

 “Good luck with that.” He continued to rub his jaw.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.”

He approached the bench slowly. “So do we have a deal?”

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by.