First Short Story Post

I've decided that I'll start posting short stories I write on here. At least some of them. I posted one short story once on myspace and ended up deleting it. I guess I was embarassed. I need to work past that if I'm going to be doing anything with this in the future. The first story I'll be posting here is called Jaywalker. It's my first experiment in absurdism. Hope you enjoy! Special thanks to Mike, DeeDee, and Larry for helping me trim the fat and keep the meat.


Jaywalker by Jordan Kenney

Sean had given up eating. It wasn’t about appearance or health. He simply didn’t have the time. Sean had two full-time jobs, one accounting course at the community college, and zero friends. Several months ago he found himself consistently late getting back to his first job when he ate meals during his lunch break. He initially changed this by stocking up on granola bars that he could eat as he walked, but he found that the extra time spent at the store made him late for his second job.
He was distraught until, during one lunch break, he purchased a book on tape concerning the mind’s power over the body. It made him only 30 seconds late for work. As he listened to it, he determined he could survive without food and, (in order to save time) would no longer eat. While at his desk typing, he imagined himself eating delectable feasts of turkey and potatoes slathered in butter. When finished with his false meal, he would be rid of his hunger. Or if not, he used his willpower to ignore it.
During today’s lunch break Sean needed to restock on energy drinks. He may have stopped eating, but he still drank so long as it was coffee or energy drinks. He had given up sleep months before to improve his time management. He found that sleep took up far too much time. He weaned himself off of it gradually from six hours a night to four to two until he was able to function on copious amounts of caffeine and split second naps he took when he blinked. And it worked relatively well except on occasion when he would forget where he was or what he was doing mid-blink.
Sean scurried along the crowded sidewalk, his head downwards, counting the individual slabs of concrete while he tapped his thumb and forefinger together ten times for every slab he crossed. It was 57 slabs from his work to the store with an intersection after the 50th. He learned the amount so he could walk there without having to look up. Recently people’s faces had begun looking strangely ominous to him, like portraits on walls whose eyes never moved but always seemed to follow.
He turned up the volume on his walkman and decided to step more quickly. The moment he reached slab number 47, he blinked. As his eyes opened he bumped into a man he hadn’t noticed. One of his headphones slipped out. Sean very nearly collapsed before he was able to put it back in and breathed a deep, relieved sigh. The sound of the world was like a constant foghorn to him, and he had long since decided to keep his headphones on at all times. He stepped over the man who now lay dazed on the ground and continued walking.
Sean reached slab number 50 and, without hesitation, walked out into the busy intersection, not caring that the light on the other side showed a bright red “stop” hand. Sean found it took far too long for lights to change and hated looking up to watch it happen. He had become skillful in maneuvering through moving traffic. He wove back and forth and in and out between cars, staring down and counting the lines as he dared the five-lane street. When he reached lane number five, he blinked. He never heard the oncoming truck over his headphones, but he caught a glimpse of it just before it struck him. He died instantly. It was the only way an expert time manager like Sean knew how to die.
The line to meet St. Peter was short, but Sean still tapped his feet impatiently. The road he stood on shimmered glowing gold surrounded by white clouds. It infuriated him. He blinked and blinked, but the glare was far too bright for him to get his naps in. How was he supposed to sleep?
He heard the sound of choirs and harps. This hadn’t been what he was listening to. He had been listening to a book on tape about financial success. He checked his walkman to discover the problem when he realized it was gone. Someone on the street must have stolen it. He’d get to the bottom of this just as soon as he was finished waiting in this wretched line.
As his turn finally arrived, Sean approached St. Peter at his podium. In front of him was a large ledger that opened up as wide as Sean’s outstretched arms. He struggled to listen as the angel introduced himself. It was the first time Sean heard anyone speak in a long time. Years ago he had learned to read lips so he wouldn’t have to remove his headphones. Even then he preferred written memos and emails. He hated watching people’s faces and considered plugging his ears, but the beard on the angel was thick enough that reading his lips would’ve been difficult. Sean decided this time it was best to listen.
“Welcome to Heaven, Sean,” the angel warmly said. “I am St. Peter. You have died and your judgement is at hand. Depending on what is written of you in this book, you will enjoy eternal paradise or endure eternal suffering.” He turned the pages in the ledger to find Sean’s information. Sean folded his arms and tapped his finger. Certainly Heaven should have a more efficient, up-to-date system than this.
St. Peter leaned close to the book and ran his eyes along the pages. As he read he would occasionally address Sean. “Hmm,” he said. “I don’t see many sins in here but… hmm.” Sean began tapping his foot and glared at the haloed head behind the book. “Little interaction with your fellow man. No charitable deeds, but no dishonest deeds. No wrath or greed but no compassion. There’s much written but… hmm…”
“Dammit, man!” Sean burst out. “Could you speed this up? My lunch break ended five minutes ago!”