Fast Food

Master Class Summer Edition #2

SAM asked Lexy to choose any book and give her a 10. Here is the new assignment from the 10th page:
the assignment is to use that line somewhere in the body of our piece. 

Murph looked up at the darkening sky.  Thunder rumbled in the distance, they needed to get a move on.  The incoming storm would be a disaster if they didn't wrap up soon.

The ME was going through the deceased's pockets, looking for ID.  She'd already done liver temp to establish approximate time of death, or TOD.  There hadn't been any visible injury, the autopsy would have to determine the cause.

As he scanned the area in front of him, Murph made a mental catalog of the elements of the scene.  Middle aged male, curled in fetal position on the grass in front of the park bench.  No briefcase, but an empty fast food bag.  The half eaten burger several feet from the body, as though he'd thrown it.  While the team was busy elsewhere, some pigeons had waddled over to inspect it.  "Hey!  Charlie!  Bag that burger before those vermin make off with it!"  He yelled over the latest roll of thunder.

"Got it boss, sorry!"  Charlie hustled to the sandwich with an evidence bag.

Murph moved on, muttering thoughts to himself about the scene, the imminent rainstorm, and the half-assed job his crew was doing.

"Boss?  I think you better come see this."  

He heaved a sigh, then joined Charlie at the body.  "What'm I seein', Charlie?"

Charlie pointed at a pigeon beside the burger, now not only partially eaten by the deceased, but bird pecked as well. 

"It's a pigeon, Charlie," said Murph, as the sky opened and rain began its cleansing.

"Yeah, Boss, I know that," Charlie answered.  "But, Boss, it's a dead pigeon, now."

Leftovers

Holidays.  Or is holi-daze?

Just barely are the Thanksgiving leftovers cleared out, then comes the company Christmas party.  The hostess armed with Ziplocs and enough food to feed a small town, insisting, "Take this home, I'll never eat all that.  This will just go to waste.  Take some home."

So I do.  A plate of deviled eggs. Half a lemon chiffon cake that she knows my husband loves.  Crackers and salami and ham and dip and...   Leftovers.

The day before Christmas Eve, I'm at the store.  Buying food for the relatives that will be over.  Crackers and little smokies and carrots and cookies and dip...  Leftovers

New Year's Day, a stop at my Uncle's for a family gathering to greet the new year.  With food.  Ham and crackers and, well, yeah, you get it.  Leftovers, sigh.

But, there was one more thing.  An old box.  Filled with old papers.  A picture of my great, great grandparents.  Copies of birth and death certificates for relatives I've only found while researching our ancestry.  Names I'd not been able to find.

A guest register from a funeral seventy some years ago.  A wedding registry from as long ago.  Newspaper articles, copies from one hundred year old archives, telling of the death of my great grandfather.  He owned a tavern, among other businesses.

An envelope full of birth congratulations, with the sympathy cards that came less than a year later when the infant that would have been my aunt died.

Bits and pieces of lives begun and ended.  Bits and pieces of lives remembered.  Leftovers.




Well, the new year is here and the holidays are behind us. Speaking of “behinds”—how about those holiday leftovers? The food, the sweets, the bills-to-come… it’s that time of year where we all try to set a plan in motion to “toss out” all of those leftovers.