Dads In Short Shorts Read online

Dads in Short Shorts

  Three short shorts by Benjamin Klein

  Copyright page

  Dads in Short Shorts

  by Benjamin Klein

  Copyright 2016 Benjamin Klein

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  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Devious Dessert

  The Sub Ride

  Door to Door

  About the Author

  Devious Dessert

  As a janitor, I know not to mess with any personal possessions in the offices I clean. Which is why it was insulting for Ms. Portman to say, “Don’t touch anything” as she brushed passed me leaving her room for the night.

  I enter her office, flipping the light on, still reeling from that brief encounter. I march to the trash can and throw off the lid. Who did she think I was? Some bum off the street? Was she even aware of how hard it was to even get a janitorial job in her company? I am a trustworthy employee and I would never…

  And then I see it sitting near the corner of the table with nothing covering it. I recognize it as food, a dessert most likely, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. At first glance, I would describe it as a cinnamon roll. As I get closer, though, it looks more like some European thing. It oozes a caramel sauce that seems to glimmer and I spot what looks like either chocolate chips or raisins sprinkling its layers.

  Yes, I’m hungry. My shift is over in 2 hours and dinner will be waiting for me at home. But the sight of this dessert awakes the appetite in me, and my stomach grumbles low and long. I try to shake the feeling by getting on with my job.

  “I know you want me.”

  I’m startled by the voice and swirl around, flinging trash across the room. No one’s there.

  “Over here, Dummy.”

  It’s the dessert. The dessert’s talking. I talk back.

  “What?”

  “Look, you were ogling me a minute ago like I was the last drop of water in the desert and I’m saying I noticed,” The pile of whatever-it-is throbs and shifts when it speaks. “Why don’t you take a bite?”

  “What? No!” I blurt.

  “It’s ok. I won’t tell her.”

  “My wife?” I say.

  “No. Ms. Portman. You can eat some of me and I wont tell the boss,” Some chocolate filling oozes from its center. “Trust me. I’ll be the best thing you have ever eaten in your entire life.”

  I believe it. I have never seen anything that looks as tasty as this dish of gooey goodness. I do want it. But what about my job? What about my oath to never disturb any personal items in the offices I clean? Eating food left around was definitely not allowed, especially talking food from the boss’s office.

  “I heard what she said to you out there. She was really rude to you. I’ve never met somebody so entitled.”

  Was this thing channeling my thoughts? My stomach growls louder.

  “Come on, be adventurous! No one will know!”

  I’m standing in front of the dessert pile now, my mouth watering. My hands shaking.

  “Should I…use a fork?” I ask.

  “No, just your hands. Let’s live dangerously.”

  I squish two fingers into the dessert and it makes a soft sound. I close my eyes and wince as I pinch off a tiny piece.

  “Oooh!” it says and giggles.

  I bring the bite to my mouth and hold it there.

  “What’re you waiting for?” The dessert on the table asks.

  “Eat me,” the bite in my hand whispers.

  “Ok, hold up,” I say, “How can I eat you if you’re talking to me the whole way down? Are you alive?”

  “No,” says the dessert on the table.

  “And yes,” says the piece in my hand.

  A small crumble breaks from what’s in my hand and falls to the floor.

  “It’s complicated,” The crumble squeaks.

  “What will happen to you if I eat you? What will happen to me?” I ask.

  “Clearly, I’ve never been eaten before,” the dessert pile says, “Just take the one bite and let’s see.”

  I take the bite.

  And another.

  And another.

  And several more bites before my rationality and sanity and humanity catch up. I’m chewing what I tell myself will be the final bite when I see that there is nothing left. I ate every devious morsel off that plate. And I feel sick. It churns past my gut to someplace deeper inside me, like my soul is being eaten away.

  I’m about to leave Ms. Portman’s office when I hear the tiny crumble from the ground say something.

  “Well?” it asks, “How do you feel?”

  “I feel like I just ruined my dinner,” I say, and I hear tiny laughter coming from inside of me.

  The Sub Ride

  “Alright folks, we are comin’ up on it,” the navigator said, not once taking his eyes off the mini subs readings.

  “It’s about time,” Mr. Neville said. His wife gave him a nasty look, but it didn’t seem to register.

  “Can you see anything yet? I wanna see!” Little Thomas Neville Jr. jumped from his seat and scrabbled towards the navigator’s cock pit. His mother grabbed him and forced him back.

  “Tommy, I swear if you do that again, you won’t be seeing anything.” She saidThe navigator focused on his instruments. His movements were quick now as the training took over. His hands fluttered across levers and buttons. He starred at the sonar, then back to the digital readings, then the sonar again.

  “Well then, what is it? What are you seeing?” Mr. Neville said, shifting in his seat. He squinted out the tiny round window, but saw only black. It didn’t even look like water.

  The navigator didn’t say a word and continued with his work.

  “This is the worst trip ever,” Little Thomas Neville Jr. slammed his head back against the hull. He was about to do it again, but Mrs. Neville put a forceful hand on the top of his head and held it stiff.

  “Now listen here,” Mr. Neville put his hand on the shoulder of the navigator, “I paid good money to find whatever is down here, and you said you could take us to it. You said you saw it before. If you are playing me a fool, I swear I will have your license and your name ruined.”

  “Thomas, that’s enough!” Mrs. Neville tried to pull her husband back to his seat while keeping a hold of her son who was fighting her grip.

  The navigator made a few more adjustments. He flicked a switch and bright lights shot out from the sub, piercing the black deep. He took a deep breath and turned to face his passengers. He smiled.

  “Go ahead and have a looksy. We’re right on top of it.”

  Little Thomas Neville Jr. broke his mothers’ grip dashing to the nearest window. His parents were right behind him. Most of the object was still hidden in darkness, but what the track lights uncovered was enough to leave the Neville family speechless. For a moment.

  “My word, its beautiful,” Mrs. Neville said.

  The object appeared golden in the light, with ornate designs and sparklingly jewels in specific looking patterns. The sub continued to slowly cross the length of the object.

  “It’s huge!” Little Thomas Neville Jr. said.

  “It doesn’t look very old,” Mr. Neville said, turning to the navigator.

  “It’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “ ’Cause I was down here when th
ey landed.”

  Now Mrs. Neville joined her husband in starring at the navigator. The boy starred out the window.

  “What the devil are you talking about?” Mr. Neville said.

  “I was down here and they saw me and chose me. They needed someone to help ‘em get what they want.”

  “Mom, Dad, look!” Thomas Jr. said as the object beneath them lit up with lights of its own. The brightness flooded the tiny sub and the family covered their eyes. The navigator didn’t.

  “ Ya see, they need kids for their experiments. Not many kids, either. Non lethal experiments, I think. Adults won’t do. Don’t ask me why, ‘cause I don’t know. But they said I could go with ‘em if I helped ‘em..”

  A loud churning sound vibrated through the sub. The object was opening.

  “Now see here,” Mr. Neville started, but stopped as the navigator revealed a gun.

  “Thomas,” Mrs. Neville clung tightly to Mr. Neville.

  “I’m sorry, folks. It’s just that, well, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful than what’s on that ship. They said their home is even more beautiful and they said I could go. Just the way it is.”

  The navigator shot Mr. Neville in the gut. Mrs. Neville screamed just before she met the same fate.

  “Well, kid. You ready to go?” The Navigator asked.

  “Heck yeah!” said Little Thomas Neville Jr.

  Door to Door

  Graham opened his door and greeted the two well dressed men.

  “What can I do for you?” Graham said.

  “Well, you can join the Church of the Living Embodiment and agree to financially support us for the rest of your life,” the man on the left said with a massive smile.

  “Wow, that’s direct,” said Graham.

  “Well, we pride ourselves in being direct, sir. And we hope our directness makes you feel open to talking with us. Now, do you have a wife, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’ll bet she’s fat and saggy now, correct?”

  “Hey, what the hell did you just say about my wife?”

  “He asked,” the man on the right said, “if your wife was fat and saggy.”

  “Get the hell off my property!” Graham said.

  “Well, the reason I ask, sir,” said the man on the left, “is that if your wife is indeed fat and saggy, we at the Church of the Living Embodiment and can give her a new body: toned and fit. We just need her to allow the demon snakes to enter her-”

  “Get out of here!” Graham slammed the door.

  “Maybe a little too direct,” the man on the right said.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Benjamin Klein is a writer of comics, screenplays, anti-intellectual poetry, and short fiction. He specializes in the quirky, the tense, the humorous, and the surprisingly touching. Benjamin is a graduate from Full Sail University with a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing for entertainment and highly favored by his high school English teacher and his mom. You can see his work on his blogs lifewithclotheson.wordpress.com and lastactionarnold.wordpress.com.