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This is a pass-around story that was poked
and prodded by e-mail for a few stops. It didn't quite make it back to
the beginning, or at least I don't have the results. But here it is,
unedited, in its raw form. Title: There Was No Red Light ... ****************************************** (Wanda wrote …) There was no red light, there was no green light, there was no yellow light. ****************************************** (Bob wrote …) “Must not be working,” Ralph muttered. He peered into the smoky glass that hid the face of the machine. There should have been some sign of life, some kind of beeping or flashing that would tell people the thing was turned on. “You gonna use that thing?” someone asked behind him. “I’m in a hurry,” another voice called out. “It’s broken,” Ralph said to the growing line behind him. An elderly man pushed his way through the crowd, using his cane as a prod, poking everyone around him, whether they were in his way or not. “Let me see it,” he huffed. He stared for a moment at the blank face of the machine. When it did not respond, he slapped his hand against the glass, causing the whole machine to rattle violently from the force of the blast. “Way to go,” the crowd jeered. “I’m in a hurry!” Ralph wanted to tell the woman that she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, but he was growing fearful of the mood of the crowd. Things could get ugly very soon, and he didn’t want to be caught between the machine and a mob. “Make it work!” someone shouted at Ralph, and other voices picked up the chant. “Yeah! Make it work!” “What makes you think I can fix it?” he asked defensively. But he knew the answer, and he was afraid that they knew, too. ****************************************** (Hazel wrote...) Ralph pulled out his all-purpose, federally authorized, chromium plated, precision mitered, wedge and turning tool, and tried to figure out where there was anything he could pry open. The machine was factory sealed and under factory warranty but the factory closed over a year ago. Ralph used to work for The Company, but he was a front desk person. His entire career consisted of answering telephones and telling people no one was available. The crowd waited expectantly behind him. Their impatience decreased with the sight of the tool, but Ralph knew it would rise quickly when they realized he had no clue what to do. Where was Floyd at a time like this? Floyd, Ralph's brother, always knew how to coax machines into doing his bidding. Hadn't he tweaked the office beverage machine to blend two flavors to make a third without needing another spigot? Was it a fluke that only automatic barber chair that never snipped the top of his ears had been adjusted by Floyd? Why did all that talent go to just one of three brothers? A woman cleared her throat behind him and Ralph's forehead beaded with perspiration. There must be an access panel, a reset button, a narrow crack … SOMETHING he could fiddle with to buy some time. There was a small sticker on the side of the machine that read ... ## Copyright © Whoever A Prairie Writer's Spiritual Notebook www.prairiewritersnotebook.org The author retains all rights. To provide a comment for the author, follow this link to e-mail. Please mention the title and author. |
