LN-04

Ballard Street Stories

As the aconitine seeps down into Ted’s tear ducts from the plunger, he hears the soft whispered words drift by. “I told you there would be consequences.” He had almost come to crave those soft feminine whispers, late at night, stealing time wherever time could be found.

As time ran out, his final thought stumbled through his already collapsing mind. “She was right, I can’t play with time forever…”

LN-02

Ballard Street Stories

Her parents, teachers, and eventually her therapist repeatedly tried to convince her that clowns should be funny. Clowns should bring happiness. But for Sandy coulrophobia seemed more like a fear of her own joy. She couldn’t remember the specific encounter that ignited the fuse that would continually burn her growing up in south Brooklyn. She only knew that every weekend when the other children and even her own siblings would venture out to Coney Island, she was nowhere to be found. Her therapist told her that when individuals feel safe in a predetermined process, they might be more willing to address the issues with exceptional bravery and profound courage. Sandy had no idea what the response would be when confronted head on in the most “unsafe” manner.

In a desperate final attempt to cure her irrational occupation with the white-faced actors, her beau of six tumultuous years plans the perfect date. For days prior to the evening, Larry intimated of a fantastic night of romance, fantasy, elegance and most serendipitously, surprise. Though he should have learnt by experience, Larry threw caution to the wind, ignoring the fact that “surprise” was Sandy’s mortal enemy.

Sandy’s coulrophobia was about to clash with angrophobia – specifically her own. For in her 52 years on this planet, struggling with her fear of clowns had built up a personal rage she was terrified to release… again. Not after the Huntington Beach incident of 1968. Momentarily struck at the front door, an eerie uncharacteristic chuckle rose from deep within. Sandy understood that tonight, she would be rid of more than her fears.

“Surprise!” exclaimed Larry. HA… Ha… ha.

Ballard Street Stories

Barbara vowed never to dedicate her life to the routine of the competitive circuit if only she could take Best in Show just once. After finally emerging champion a decade ago, she stuck to her word and disappeared from the Westminster lifestyle, even refusing to address Millie by her proper title, Champion Surrey Spice Girl.

In the years to pass, Ron wondered if Barbara had made the right decision - after all, they were the husband and wife dynamic duo of the regional dog duels. But Barbara stood fast and slowly but surely, a welcome peace came over the Scott household where regimented prancing laps and posing around their trodden garden were substituted for casual romantic strolls along friendly neighbourhood lanes.

Then one uncharacteristically tepid winter afternoon, as Barbara perused her preferred periodical, she came upon a story that rattled something hidden deep down inside. Something she thought she had locked away forever. Millie felt a shift in Barbara’s mood and immediately sprung to her beloved’s lap, her little tail beating against Barbara’s thigh in earnest concern. From the study, Ron felt the tension fill the air and called out, “Barbara, what is it?”

The only sound, Millie’s flapping tail.

“A deerhound,” was the barely audible whisper of a reply. That bastard breed had made it’s way to the winners circle for the first time in the show’s history, closely edging out the year’s best poodle.

“You know what this means Ron,” grumbled Barbara reluctantly, “It’s time to return.” A sudden shredding erupted… Well, if it isn’t little Miss Millie High Maintenance!

LN-01