Silvestre Naranjo
Stories (2)
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No Time For Funny Business
“Let me tell ya, sirs, I’m a straight thinking man, fer sure.” The drunk, dirty, and perhaps not completely aware of himself bum fidgeted in his seat as two police officers observed him. “I always ‘ave been, you’d better believe! It was how i was brought up, y’know?” He wiped his red nose, covered his mouth as a fit of hiccups overtook him, then coughed once before continuing his rant. “I calls things as I see them, and I stick to that, ‘cause if a man can’t trust his own eyes, what can he trust?”
By Silvestre Naranjo4 years ago in Fiction
Little Things
Mr. Bumpy had never quite felt fulfilled as a plush bear. In the five years since Aunt Jess had bought him as a wedding gift for her niece Louise and her husband Franklin, there had never been too much real play. Mr. Bumpy knew this was to be expected: Louise and Franklin were adults after all, with work and chores and a million other things to keep them busy and fill their time. It wasn’t like they ignored him: his spot was on the bedside table next to where Louise slept, just behind the picture of the couple on their wedding day. Whenever Louise or Franklin would clean their room, they’d set him down to lay on the bed while dusting. Mr. Bumpy knew their hands very well: Franklin’s hands were firm and comforting, never squeezing Mr. Bumpy too hard. In contrast, Louise’s long, delicate fingers made it easy for Mr. Bumpy to slip out of her grip, especially if she was only holding onto one of his legs or arms. Mr. Bumpy wished that something more would happen, always wanting one or both of them to make believe or play pretend but they never did or at least they never included him.
By Silvestre Naranjo4 years ago in Fiction
