This week Pushcart nominee Bobbie Troy makes her debut at cavalcadeofstars.
The Old Age Repository
By Bobbie Troy
Wake up, Grandma. We’re here.
Huh, huh? Oh, ya mean the old age repository?
Grandma, please. It will be ok. You’ll see. Look how pretty is it up there on the hill.
I still can’t believe yur doin’ this ta me, Sonny. I practically raised ya up. Now yur dumpin’ me off like so much garbage. That’s all I am ta ya? Ok, Ok. Have it yur way. Get on home now. At least ya’ve still got a home ta go ta.
Granny, we went all over this. Look at your leg. It’s broken in five places. If I hadn’t stopped by your place after work, you’d be dead by now. I just couldn’t leave you alone any more.
Yeah, well. Maybe dead is better than dumped.
Hi, Mr. Johnson. Before you go up to see your Grandmother, I would like to talk to you. Please come into my office.
Thank you, Doctor. What is it? Is Grandma OK? Does she like it here? She can be stubborn if she sets her mind against something.
Well, she’s ok. Physically, that is. But mentally she’s having a hard time adjusting. She’s aloof, and well, I’m afraid she’s retreated into another reality. That’s fairly common with newcomers to our facility. But she should get over it in time and adjust perfectly fine. So for now, just go along with whatever she says.
Yes, Doctor, I guess you know best. But I really don’t know what you’re talking about.
Hi, Grandma. Your room looks nice with all your pictures out. I brought you some candy. Grandma, aren’t you going to say hi?
Why should I? I’m busy. We’re outta control. Spinnin’ outta orbit. I’m tryin’ ta reach mission control to redirect our flight path, but nobody answers. So I have ta keep tryin’. Mission control, mission control, this is Granny123. Do ya read me? Do ya read me? I repeat, this is Granny123. Come in, mission control.
Look, just leave the candy, Sonny. I don’t have time fur ya right now.
But Grandma, I came to visit all the way from the city. You know how long that takes. I want to make sure you’re happy here. How’s the food? Have you made any friends?
Mission control, mission control. Do ya read me? This is Granny123. I repeat, this is Granny123. Come in, mission control.
Grandma, stop this nonsense. This isn’t a spaceship. It’s the Hillview Old Age Home. You know that. Now stop being silly. You know I love you, but I had no choice.
I don’t know nuthin’ but this is an old age repository that’s outta orbit an’ outta control. Just flingin’ out space garbage every day. One comes in, one goes out. Garbage in, space garbage out. Nothin’ more, Sonny. But when I get control, I’m gonna aim this baby at all the houses of all the relatives that dumped their loved ones in this old age repository. A smart meteor. That’s what it ‘ill be. A smart meteor that self-destructs after it’s done the job. Then none of us ‘ill have nuthin’ to worry about.
Mission control, mission control, this is Granny123. Do ya read me?
BODY IN THE BATHROOM
By Bobbie Troy
We didn’t realize he had followed us into the building. So when we opened the apartment door and he shoved us in, we were totally freaked out.
He had a gun. I remember he just pointed it in the direction he wanted us to go—
into the kitchen—and shoved us into the chairs.
My mind was racing. I remember thinking how the white walls were such a stark contrast to the blood I could already see.
I wondered why Jason and I had gone to the deli and left Robbie sleeping. Something we’d never done before. I prayed that he’d keep on sleeping—through everything.
At first, we thought it was going to be robbery. But it was weird. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for anything. Just kept pointing the gun at us.
He looked around the kitchen, still silent.
Jason and I made eye contact, but quickly looked away, afraid of what he might do.
Suddenly, as if to answer us, he held the gun out to Jason and said, “Kill me, please. Just kill me.”
What the hell was this? Some kind of weird suicide mission? More like an existential nightmare.
Time stopped. I finally understood the meaning of that sentence. We couldn’t move.
Jason wasn’t about to try anything, and neither was I. We just waited and waited for the gun to fire.
Suddenly, he was walking toward the bathroom. Not Robbie’s room.
I remember thinking: this freakin’ idiot was going to kill himself in our bathroom, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.
by Bobbie Troy
when the silence of the heart
the silence of the room
the full measure of loneliness
out the door
by Bobbie Troy
Originally published 10/6/2009 on http://www.voxpoetica.com
Nominated by Annmarie Lockhart, editor, for the 2010 Pushcart Prize
if you remember
i think it was in some strange court in tasmania
or maybe in your kitchen/our kitchen over coffee
that you took out your precious written thoughts
and pushed the sugar my way
if you remember
i think it was in your kitchen/our kitchen in the afternoon sunlight
that you let me see the back of your head/heart
and the reasons behind, the contacts with
all the things that didn’t let you be free
and I got up to get the milk from the frig
if you remember
i think it was in the middle of a fresh pot of coffee
after so many cups of instant
that we realized where we were in terms of each other
and what we were
and sometime during all that
you gave me a new coffee mug
Bobbie Troy maintains her sanity and perspective on life by writing flash fiction, poetry, and original fairy tales with a 21st century twist. Her work appears online and in print: Concise Delight Magazine of Short Poetry, Issue 1; Vox Poetica; SPARK, an art and writing project; Haiku Ramblings; Caper Literary Journal; Leaf Garden Press; the Journal of Liberal Arts and Education; Referential Magazine; Yes, Poetry; cavalcadeofstars. Her poem, Dear Diane, was nominated for a 2010 Pushcart Prize (http://www.aliceshapiro.com/thechangeinterviews.html). Her fairy-tale play, Sasha and the Tree of Sorrows, was produced in March 2011.