Between Death and Dying | Short Story
Written By: Elijah Morinville
I knew I had to wake up in the morning no later than 9 o clock. Not that it was the most pressing matter- but indeed a promise is a promise and I would make that pasta salad. It’s an ass and a hat to be lying in bed, eyes closed, and your most prominent thought is that pasta salad you’ve got to make in the morning- damn the impending doom that lay outdoors if your grandma doesn’t have that pasta the holiday spread would be for the pluccos. I ended up stretching my legs and leaving my pillowed comforts at around 9:40 in the morning, a bit behind schedule and I still had to make my coffee.
My coffee had finished brewing about 20 minutes later- I heard the timer go off, but didn’t actually enjoy my first cup for another 20 minutes due to the spider that lay between the microwave and window- I needed to return it to the rectangle patch of grass we call a yard. I’d wonder if it had enough space. I’d have to make the noodles first, the sacred tri-color Rotini that one would have thought was as imaginary as the number I by the way my aunts talked about how they couldn’t find it. After realizing the pot that I needed was currently occupied by prior sauce related engagements, I left it in the fridge and settled for a pot twice as large as what I needed. It was about 10:40 by the time I finished the first cup and the noodles were already strained, while they sat in the pot strained and oiled I finished chopping the vegetables. Half a red pepper, half an orange and yellow, Half a red onion as well. I doused the pot of veggies and noodles with half a bottle of Italian dressing, the brand was shit for greens but worked well for pasta salad for whatever reason. Don’t forget the special seasonings, a mixture you never really read the ingredients to but had always been familiar with its taste.
It was just past 11, I’d finished at a reasonable time and still didn’t have to leave for another couple of hours. I sealed the bowl of pasta with its plastic cap and shook it for good measure before jamming it in the jar filled top slot of the refrigerator. I sat a moment or two to gaze out at the backyard, “grass is torn to shit” I thought to myself. Our grapevines had grown through the wood fence separating our strip of yard and the neighbors, I looked at it for another couple of minutes as I rubbed my tongue on the back of the bottom row of my teeth. “ I’ve got to brush my damn teeth still” I walked across the kitchen aiming to go up and brush my teeth- I caught the tomatoes out of the corner of my eye, I forgot the goddamned tomatoes. I found a pen and paper and hastily wrote a note that simply read “tomatoes” and smacked it on the top of the bowl. Went and brushed my teeth, much to my surprise it was barely noon.
I figured I would take a walk before I left out with that salad, hope the family will like it- don’t forget the tomatoes you fuck. Before I left I figured I’d smoke some a little green, weed, some grass- whatever your preferred terminology. I packed a little in a small glass pipe, worked like a charm but goddamn if I didn’t burn my mustache hairs every single time. As I finished, I felt the need to reassure the dog that this wasn’t his walk, that his would come later- he knew what the smell meant. I struggled to slip my shoes on without my hands as the back lip kept getting stuck under my heel and no amount of floor peddling would negate the use of my pointer finger to pull it over my heel. I opened the door as I walk out I smack my right thigh, then left, then ass- I’d remembered to grab everything for once- though I always put my keys in my pocket too early and would have to obtain them from a tangled mess of earbuds again once I stepped out onto the stoop.
DISCLAIMER: Please remember this is an opinion piece only. All the views and points discussed are of the writer’s only.