THE LOVE BETWEEN THEM by Janet Cipolli

Harold and Winifred Munson were waiting to board a plane from Hartford, Connecticut to Miami, Florida. Winnie wanted to escape the brutal winter they’d been having and since they could afford it, she went ahead and booked a two-week trip to Florida. The elderly couple had never flown on a plane before and it had taken some convincing to get Harold to agree but in their fifty-seven years of marriage Harry had always ended up doing exactly what his childhood sweetheart wanted.

Now, after two hours of sitting at the airport due to an unexpected ice storm, they were both getting a slight case of cabin fever.

“Stop pulling on my sweater!" Winnie scolded as she straightened her sleeve.

Harry adjusted his watchband but not the sour attitude he had acquired since their flight had been delayed.

"I don't know why we couldn't have just gone to Atlantic City for a few days," he complained. "Look at this place, it's crawling with illegal aliens."

"Oh hush! You don't know that," Winnie scowled, "And keep your voice down."

"Why? If they can't speak English they sure as heck won’t understand it."

Over the past two hours, several people had sat down next to them but all had decided to move. Just as Harold was about to get back to his ongoing rant about the unfair cost-of-living freeze on Social Security benefits, a young man wearing a cowboy hat sat down in a seat across from them. Harold waited for eye contact before opening his mouth.

“Howdy there cowboy, where you headed?” Harold asked.

“Back home to Dallas, Texas sir.” The young man tipped his hat towards the couple.

“Oh my,” said Winifred, delighted to see such manners in a young person, “What brings you way up here?” she asked with a smile.

“Well, ma’am,” he took his hat off and placed it on the seat next to him, “I was here to attend a funeral—my Dad passed away last week.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Winifred’s face scrunched up as if she were in pain.

“Why was your Dad way up here?” Harry probed, then added with a spark. “I’ll bet it was to get away from all them illegal aliens, wasn’t it?”

"Enough with the aliens!" snapped Winnie.

The young man naively turned to Harold to answer his question.

“No sir, my father was forced to leave Texas some years back for coming out as an openly gay Republican.”

Harold arched his eyebrows, “Your father was a Republican?”

“Wait a minute,” Winnie waved her hand at her husband, “How could your father be gay?” she asked.

“It wasn’t easy,” continued the young cowboy, “First, he had to have my mother’s hands surgically removed from around his neck…”

“Hey!” blurted Harold, “Was that her on 60 Minutes?”

“Will you shut up for a second?” Winifred scolded.

Harry turned to his wife to offer a response but she was already addressing the young man.

“Your mother must have been devastated,” offering him a sympathetic look.

“Well, if I woke up next to a Republican I’d be pretty devastated too,” piped Harry.

Winnie looked at her husband, “I’m a Republican dear."

A booming voice over the airport’s loudspeaker announced the boarding of all passengers to Dallas, Texas. The young cowboy quickly put on his hat and graciously bid the elderly couple goodbye.

Winifred looked around at the dwindling crowds while Harold adjusted his watchband for the hundredth time.

“The storm must have passed,” she said with quiet anticipation.

Harry sat silently, staring forward.

“Harry?” Winnie turned to him, “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you tell me to shut up,” he huffed.

Winnie smiled to herself and gently patted his leg.

“Oh hush,” she poked.

“There you go again,” he said as he looked around for more aliens.

Winifred poked his arm. He turned to see her rosy cheeks and smiling eyes beaming back at him. They sat looking at each other and as would often happen, saw the childhood sweetheart in each other.

“Do you think we have time for another hot chocolate?” she asked coyly.

Harry perused the area of the beverage machines. “As long as a large gathering of aliens don’t get in my way.”

“And can I have some little marshmallows this time?”

Harry got up from his chair.

“You can have whatever you want Winnie.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on her soft rosy cheek before heading off to the beverage machine where a large gathering of foreigners apparently had the same idea.

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Copyright 2011 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.
Janet invites you to follow her writing (button at top of page) or go to: http://fictionalseasons.blogspot.com/

CUPID'S BROKEN HEART by Janet Cipolli

It was nearing Valentine's Day and Cupid was nowhere to be found. His Supervisor decided to pay him a visit at his home and when he arrived he found the winged dumpling sprawled on his sofa in front of the television.

"Hey!" shouted the Supervisor in dismay, "What the hell are you doing? Do you realize it's only four days until Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Cupid replied, staring at the TV.

"Well get up!" walking over to the television and turning off Jerry Springer in mid-sentence.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Cupid annoyingly shouted.

"This is the reason divorce is at its all-time highest," pointing his finger at Cupid, "Get out there and get some people to fall in love--you lazy bum!"

Cupid looked up at his Supervisor and decided to confess his doubts.

"I can't do it anymore boss," he sat up and pulled a pizza bite out from the folds of his belly. "What's the point? So they fall in love, big deal. They got nowhere to go from there but down. They can’t afford to buy a house, most of them are unemployed and those that do get married only end up arguing about money and blaming me, I'm sick of being the scapegoat for everybody's problems."

The Supervisor listened as Cupid continued. "Boss, you've known me for a long time. I was the one who convinced Burt Bacharach to write that song about the world needing love..."

"Yeah," interrupted the Supervisor, "and you also were behind The J. Geils Band's "Love Stinks!"

Cupid blushed. "I was pissed off that day, but now that you mention it, it does stink."

The Supervisor sensed the seriousness of Cupid's depressed state.
"Look, I'll make you a deal."

Cupid, with a look of doubt on his chubby face, "A deal? Who are you, Monty Hall?”

"I'm serious. You gather up your supplies, head out and if you can get 4,000 couples to fall in love in four days I'll give you a huge bonus."

"4,000? Are you out of your mind?" Cupid shimmied to the edge of the sofa, his feet dangling. "First of all, there aren't FORTY couples out there who want to take it to the next level and half of the ones who do can't even get married in most states. I'm telling you it's over. I'm finished!

The Supervisor wasn’t giving up. "Do you remember the day you stuck me and my wife with that misguided arrow?"

"You mean the one that was meant for Diana and Charles but I tripped over a rock?”

"That was the best mistake you ever made. I've been a happy man for many years and my wife couldn't be more pleased with her life. Did you know we got married on Valentine's Day?"

Cupid listened in silence.

"It’s because of you that our life has been so fulfilling. Even if you hook up just one couple, at least two more people will know the beauty of love in their life.”

Cupid's own heart was beginning to melt.

"Okay," Cupid spoke, wiping a tear from his eye, "I'll give it another shot."

He gathered his bow and arrows and headed out the front door. The Supervisor followed, closing the door on his way out.

"What a moron," he muttered. "Thank God I was able to get a quick annulment from that broad, what a mistake that would have been!”

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Copyright 2011 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.

CHOCOLATE, NOT CHOCOLATE by Janet Cipolli

Every year when Valentine’s Day rolls around, Walter Chester’s mouth begins to drool. For the past ten years, he and his wife Beth have spent cupid’s holiday at Mario’s Restaurant indulging in the most-delectable Italian foods and wine. Upon returning home, the two cozy up in front of the television to watch The Honeymooners and share a Valentine of Russell Stover chocolate.
     Unfortunately for Walter, this year Beth is determined to stick with her diet and exercise plan that she began right after the New Year’s holiday. As she prepares to break the news to her husband over breakfast, she braces herself for the inevitable tug-of-war.
     “How about hittin’ me with another short stack sweetie?” asked Walter, smacking his lips and wiping maple syrup from his chin.
     Beth, sipping her coffee, “Walt, do you honestly think you need it?”
     “If you want me to shovel that foot of snow out there so you can head over to Fat Central—yes, I do” he chided.
     Beth tilted her head with a look of annoyance, “I’ll have you know that I am totally committed to the gym this year. The girls and I have decided to take charge of our bodies.”
     Walter handed her his plate, “Cool, throw another side of “oink” on here while you’re at it.”
     Beth rolled her eyes and shook her head as she took the plate over to the stove to pile on Walter’s second helping. Foregoing further hesitation, she proceeded to bring up her plans for Valentine’s Day.
     “While we’re on the subject of food, I’ve decided we’re not going to Mario’s this year for Valentine’s Day and I don’t want you to buy me any chocolate either.” She sat down and handed Walter his plate.
     “Why not?” he asked dumbfounded.
     “Because,” she replied, “I don’t want the temptation.”
     “But it’s Valentine’s Day. We always go to Mario’s.”
     “Not this year. It will completely blow my diet.”
     Beth now had her husband’s full attention. Walter sat holding his fork over the untouched second stack.
     “You can have a salad,” he offered.
     “Walter, be serious. I’m not going to sit eating a plate of rabbit food staring at your pile of lasagna and baskets of garlic bread, not to mention the cannoli.”
     “I’ll get calamari,” Walter debated. “That’s fish. You can have fish can’t you?”
     “Not deep-fried, and you’re not hearing me…” in a singsong voice.
     “Okay,” as he finally attacks his pancakes. “We can go someplace else but I’m definitely buying Russell Stover.”
     “No you’re not, I don’t want chocolate.”
     “Well, Valentine’s Day isn’t just about YOU,” he whined. “I’m a Valentine too and I love Nut, Chewy and Crisp!”
     Beth smiled. “Yes, you are a Valentine and don’t worry, I got you something.”
     “Well its first name better be Russell,” he warned.
     Beth poured herself another cup of coffee, feeling pleased with herself for standing her ground.
     “No Mario’s, no Russell and no whining. All of us girls agreed to spend Valentine’s Day evening together at the gym, working out. And that’s that.”
     Walter stared at his wife for a minute, ”So what do you want for Valentine’s Day then?”
     Beth felt relief, “Well, since you’re allergic to flowers and perfume, how about some lingerie?”
     “I’m not going to a lingerie store,” resuming his stack attack.
     Beth laughed, “Why not?”
     “Everything is so…pink,” he stuttered.
     With a heavy sigh, Beth stared as Walter finished wiping his mouth.
     “I know!” he snickered. “I’ll buy you an Aloe Plant. You can use it on that caloric burn you’re always talking about.”
     Beth was unable to hide her disappointment, “Where is that romantic guy I married?”
     “Still here sweetie,” grabbing his coat and gloves. “Same weight too.”
     Beth bit her tongue until she heard the back door close. “Burn this.”

When the evening of Valentine’s Day arrived, Beth set off to meet her friends at the gym while Walter settled in on the sofa. The Honeymooners marathon was about to begin and although the absence of his wife was felt, the 2-lb box of Nut, Chewy And Crisp he managed to sneak past her offered him great comfort. As he ripped through the wrapping and pulled off the cover, the robustly rich smell of his favorite chocolate wafted around his nostrils till all he could do was close his eyes and feel the buzz. About five minutes later, the doorbell rang.
     “One large pepperoni?” the delivery boy asked.
     “That’s me,” replied Walter.
     The boy continued, hoping for a nice tip, “Enjoying a happy Valentine’s Day sir?”
     “Yes, very much,” shutting the door.
     It wasn’t that Walter was cheap; he just couldn’t wait any longer to sink his teeth into his Valentine treats.
     After only two episodes of Ralph Kramden sending Alice to the moon, Walter sat back on the sofa looking down at the all but empty box of chocolates and discarded pizza crusts. Admittedly, he felt like a stuffed sausage. Suddenly, the sound of keys in the front door made him jump—it was Beth!
     “Hey you,” leaping off the sofa and shoving the remains of his feast to the floor. “You’re back early.”
     The expression on her face was one of sheer disappointment.
     “They all caved!” throwing her coat and purse in disgust. “I was the only one who showed up! They all went out to dinner with their husbands, can you believe that?”
     “Aw, I’m sorry,” putting his arms around her, mainly to shield her from the incriminating evidence.
     “They’re probably all out feasting on lobster ravioli,” she moaned then noticed the pizza box on the floor.
     “You had pizza?” she asked with longing in her voice.
     Walter stretched his arm behind the sofa and pulled out her Valentine gift.
     “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he grinned as he handed her an Aloe plant wrapped with a big red ribbon.
     Beth wasn't amused. She pouted as she lifted the cover to the empty pizza box. Walter suddenly remembered the last piece of chocolate still in the box on the floor and bent over to get it. When Beth saw it her mouth dropped
     “Chocolates? You bought chocolates?” her eyes bulging with desire as she reached for them.
     “Bad for the diet,” and popped it in his mouth.
     Feeling depressed and defeated, Beth headed off towards the kitchen thinking out loud; “I wonder if kicking myself in the ass counts as aerobic activity.”
     Walter, still working on the last Chewy, “Whatever gets your heart rate up sweetie.”

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Copyright 2011 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.

AUTO REPAIR FOR THE CLUELESS by Janet Cipolli

Most people really don't care what goes on under the hood of their car. They just want to get in, start it up and let blind faith get them to wherever they're going. Then the unexpected happens. We’ve all been there. You’re driving along, not a care in the world, and then –BANG! You drive the next few miles praying to all the saints, including Al Sharpton, that the god-awful noise your car has decided to make will just go away. But it doesn’t, in fact it gets worse.

If you’re like the majority of folk, the very idea of bringing your car into a repair shop can be unnerving—and rightly so. Auto repair shops are as intimidating as a Hells Angel standing behind you in line at Krispy Kreme (you leave with a dozen Plain and decide to return later); as eerie and uninviting as that banjo-picker from "Deliverance". Car mechanics have always belonged to an exclusive and impenetrable boys club of sorts. Unfortunately, the sound of metal scraping concrete says it's time to bite the lug nut. With your tailpipe between your legs, you humbly enter the local garage with the hope that it’s not that bad. Of course, it’s never that bad—it’s always worse, far worse.

Whenever the clueless walk into a repair shop, there’s always a “tell” that gives our ignorance away.

For men, it’s either the way they’re dressed (never wear a suit to a garage and if you’ve been out golfing do yourself a favor and go home and change first) or the lack of tattoos (this says you have no interest in male bonding and that alone could cost you). If you’re a manly man and sport a tat or two, try wiping that forced look of infinite knowledge off your face. Mechanics are trained to smell fear.

If you’re a woman, you’re better off finding someone named Butch to take your car in for a repair estimate. An auto repair shop is no place for a woman. It’s like walking into the back room of a bar. Every mechanic stops what they're doing to compare you to their ideal which is usually hanging right above their toolbox. Did you ever notice that it’s always January in a repair shop?

Since requiring the services of a mechanic is about as inevitable as needing a dentist at some point in your life (and just as painful), finding one located conveniently nearby and running a background check on him might prove beneficial. Here are three easy steps you can take:

1) Find out how the mechanic likes his coffee and what kind of doughnuts he enjoys, then on a weekly basis, just drop in on him without requiring any service—this tells him you care and will definitely keep the future cost of any minor repairs to a minimum.

2) If your mechanic is married, find out what kind of perfume his wife wears and buy large quantities to keep on hand at all times. This comes in handy when faced with more serious engine problems.

3) For a full-blown transmission, the mother-of-all-repairs, just go for the 14-day cruise around the Mediterranean. Trust me, it will cost you far less-just ask the putz standing next to you-yeah, the one wearing the forced look of infinite knowledge.

Of course, these aren’t your only option. Barnes & Noble offers CAR REPAIR FOR DUMMIES but like the title suggests you’re already an idiot so just leave a blank check the next time you crack a head gasket.

There’s a good reason why mechanics over-charge to repair your car—because they can.

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Copyright 2011 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.

THE PAPERBOY by Janet Cipolli

Andrew has a pretty easy job and it pays pretty good too.
     "What do you plan to do with this season's windfall?" asked his Dad.
     Andrew thought for a minute, "Maybe I'll take us all on vacation. How about Disney World?”
     His Dad chuckled and opened his newspaper. Even he couldn't believe how his 10-year-old son had turned a funny observation into a moneymaking venture.
     Andrew and his Dad had been driving through their neighborhood on the way home from a hockey game. His Dad tried to take him to a game once a week but there was never enough money for T-shirts or any memorabilia. His Dad wasn't rich.
     On this particular day, Andrew had noticed that many houses along the route home had newspapers piling up on their front lawns, porches and driveways.
     "How come people leave their newspapers outside in the snow to get ruined like that? What a waste of money."
     His father looked to one side of the street and then the other.
     "Well, that house over there is where Sal the plumber lives. He's in Florida with his family and I wish he'd get home soon because our water heater is still leaking."
     Andrew pondered his Dad's words. When they turned onto their street he noticed the house on the left had newspapers piled up at the end of their driveway.
     "Look!" exclaimed Andrew, "Carly's family is in California! Wow, I'll bet everybody is someplace else—that’s why they're piling up!"
     His Dad agreed as they pulled into their driveway.
     "I got an idea!” said Andrew with excitement. “Yep, I got a great idea!"
     He hopped on his bicycle and rode all over the neighborhood, writing down all the addresses that had newspapers piled outside. With the help of his parents, he contacted everyone on the list and convinced them to hire him as their "away paperboy." Instead of delivering their newspapers he would be taking them away.
     "That's a great idea!" they told him. "No need for us to broadcast that we're not home for a few days. Thanks Andrew!"
     His Dad looked up from his morning newspaper, "How would you like to go to a hockey game this weekend son?"
     "Well, I've got every T-shirt from every hockey team that's played here this season." he deliberated. "How about we hit the basketball scene? I'll even buy you a shirt."
     He looked inside his newly purchased wallet. "It's school vacation and I'm loaded!"

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Copyright 2011 by Janet Cipolli. All Rights Reserved.