Dyeing

“Dyeing” by Holly Sheidenberger

She dumps six cans of baked beans into one flimsy plastic bag. The thin package of bacon gets its own bag. So do the taco shells. And the individual loaf of bread.

Ashlyn is a miserable bagger, in every sense of the word. She hates working here.

Her shift is over, but she has to put away the “go-backs” before she can leave.

Luckily, there’s only one item today. A dented box of easter egg dye.

She’d rather pay the two dollars to buy it than put it away.

An hour later, Ashlyn’s home, apartment reeking of vinegar, fingertips stained blue and green. Twelve colorful eggs drip on her coffee table.

She’ll leave them out till tomorrow.

Feasting on cold ham, potato salad, easter eggs, and wine, Ashlyn celebrates the day alone.

By evening her gut is in full rebellion. Salmonella.

An agonizing night lies ahead.

But at least she won’t have to work tomorrow.

Squirrelly

“Squirrelly” by Holly Sheidenberger

I splurged on designer path lights to illuminate my front walkway.

They’re exquisite. Sculpted bronze acorns with miniature squirrels sitting on top.

They were a hundred dollars each. I bought eight.

Monday afternoon my prized squirrels were strewn across the grass. Someone had maliciously pulled them all out.

Probably one of the neighbor kids.

Tuesday at the school bus stop I grabbed Sam, the wily one with the red hair.

He agreed to spy out the culprit. For a fee of ten dollars.

Wednesday my lights were uprooted again. Hot on the trail, Sam would need another day. And another ten dollars.

Vandalized again Thursday, I interrogated Sam. “Ten more dollars,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll know for sure.”

Fed up by Friday, I asked a freckle-faced girl walking her dog if she knew who was destroying my delicate little squirrel lights.

“That’s easy,” she said. “It’s Sam. All the kids know that.”