Appliances Included TidbitsThis story firstappeared in the Pill Hill Press anthology, Haunted, on June 15th,2010. When I saw the theme, I thought of two the things that scaredme most. The first was the disappearance of a child. Anyone who haslost track a child for a few minutes in a department store knows thefeeling and has felt the panic. The other is being accused of a crimeyou didn’t commit. Quite often it’s easier to prove guilt thaninnocence. And despite one’s innocence, even friends and loved onesmay have doubts if the evidence seems strong – and what could bemore horrible than that?The character Sadie isbased on a woman my wife and I encountered at the drive-thru ofburger joint while passing through the Eastern Washington town ofWenatchee. We were placing our order when I noticed her wheel upbehind us on a Rascal motorized scooter - I kid you not. She worenothing but a hospital gown - the kind with ties up the back that leta little too much sunshine on the back porch, if you know what Imean. After a few seconds, she seemed to grow impatient and pulled upto my wife’s window to complain. But complaining was the last thingon her mind, she just wanted to shoot the breeze, a lit cigarettedangling from her mouth, a clear tube pumping oxygen through acannula fixed under her nose. She explained that the food at thehospital was crap and she busted out of there. They wouldn’t lether smoke, neither (her words); so her first stop was a conveniencestore for a pack of Camels and a Zippo. And then it was chow time.She had a little dirt on just about everybody in town and had noqualms about sharing it with us while we waited for our food. She wassomeone I’ll never forget, and now, neither will you.Aboutthe AuthorMark Souza lives in thePacific Northwest with his wife, two children, and mongrel beast-dog,Tater. When he’s not writing, he’s out among you trying to lookand act normal (whatever that is), reminding himself that themonsters he’s created are all in his head, no more real thancampaign promises.
UpcomingTitlesMy novel <I>Robyn’s Egg</I> will be released in the springof 2012A collection of myshort stories, <I>Try 2 Stop Me</I>, will be released inSeptember of 2012Other FREEshort stories coming soon:<I>Cupid’s Maze </I><I>(AlreadyAvailable)</I><I>Murphy’s Law</I><I>(Already Available)</I><I>The Diary of Horatio White</I><I>Second Honeymoon</I><I>TheComfort Shack</I>ConnectWith Me Online:My Website: http://www.marksouza.comTwitter:http://twitter.com/#!/souzawritesAn Excerpt From Cupid’s MazeSeangazed out the windshield at a low ceiling of winter clouds saggingover an ocean of dead corn. The flaxen and gray landscape of straightlines and right angles repeated mile after relentless mile creatingan uneasy feeling of déjà vu. The car hummed on cruise control overa strip of asphalt slicing a furrow across the bleak Kansaslandscape. Ahead, the road seemed to narrow until it disappeared atthe horizon. Sean remembered a term from perspective drawing forwhere all lines converged at infinity. They called it the vanishingpoint.
Helooked over as Janet pushed her hair back, hooking it behind her earsto keep it out of her face while she read. Her blue eyes wove backand forth across the page, her expression changing as the wordsconjured images in her head. Sometimes she even laughed aloud. Hermind resided in a different place, a better place. Maybe the sunshone in her world. Maybe there were hills and trees. Meanwhile, Seandealt with the numbing monotony of the Great Plains. It hardly seemedfair.“What’sthe State tree of Kansas?” Sean asked. Janet looked up, but beforeshe could answer, he blurted, “A telephone pole.”“Ha-ha,”she mocked. She dog-eared the page and set the book in her lap. “Thatstopped being funny a hundred miles ago. But go ahead. Get it out ofyour system now, because it sure won’t play with my folks.” Cornstalks whizzed by in a blur giving an impression of speed whichseemed at odds with a stationary horizon and repetitious landscapethat hadn’t changed in hours. It felt as though they were trappedon a treadmill with the same scenery scrolling past without end likethe backdrop in a stage play. “I didn't think I’d miss them,”he said.“Misswho?”“Telephonepoles. I haven’t seen one for about an hour. And I haven’t seenanother car for nearly as long.” He glanced at the gas gage. Theneedle teetered past the halfway mark on its inexorable fall toward‘E’. “Are you sure we aren’t lost?”Janetglanced at the dashboard. “Not according to the GPS.” She foldedher hands over her book and gazed at the ring on her finger. Asatisfied smile spread across her face. “Ihaven’t seen a house in a while, either,” Sean said. “Andwhat’s with all this corn? The ears are still on it. Why hasn’tit been cut down and harvested?”“Howshould I know?” she said.“It’syour state.”
“Uh,well, I don't want to bust your balloon, but we don’t all farm.There’s supposed to be a Federal research farm around heresomeplace. Maybe it’s a part of that.”“Research?What about corn needs researching?” Sean asked. “Pick, boil andeat. It’s nature’s perfect food.”“They’redoing genetic stuff to enhance resistance to drought and pests, andto increase yields. I think they’re also working on alternativefuels.”“Inother words it’s a boondoggle,” Sean said. “My tax dollarsdumped into a Kansas corn field. Sure. Why not?” He scanned thescene outside and shook his head. “How do people live like this?I’d put a bullet in my brain.”“It’snot so bad,” Janet said.“No,it’s a real garden spot. Cut down all this corn and it’s viewproperty in every direction. Look south and see Oklahoma. Look northand see Nebraska. I can’t understand why people aren’t flockinghere in droves. And the roads. The military could use them tocalibrate lasers. Look.” Sean lifted his hands and braced themagainst the headliner as the car raced ahead. Janetshot a hand across the gap and grabbed the wheel. “Knock it off,Sean. Please keep it together. It’s just for a weekend.”Seantook back control and nodded. “It’s going to be a long two days.Your father hates me.”“Nohe doesn’t.”Seanturned toward her, a skeptical look on his face.“Okay,”she said, “but it’s not you. It’s your major.”“What’swrong with sociology?”Shesmiled as if it should be obvious. “To Dad it’s not practical. Hethinks it's wasted money and smells of bleeding-heart liberalism. Hewonders how you’ll get work and pay off your loans.”
“Yeah,like I said, he hates me.”“He’llcome around. What choice does he have? It’s my mother you need toworry about. She’s the real power behind the throne. Win her over,and you’re in.” Janet plucked a pink envelope off a heart-shapedbox of candy sitting on the rear seat. “You still haven’t signedMom’s card.”“Iwill. I just haven’t thought of anything pithy to say.”“Promiseyou’ll do it when we stop for gas, pith or no pith.”Seannodded.“Pinkyswear?”“Pinkyswear,” he assured.Janetplaced the envelope on the dash. Her left hand lingered in the weaklight near the windshield while she admired the diamond trapped inthe prongs of her ring. “How long do you think it will take her tonotice?”“Ifyou keep sticking your hand out that way, I’d say about threeseconds.”“Ihaven’t been that obvious, have I?”Seantried to hold back a grin. “No, not you. Never!”Janetpulled her hand back and stuffed it beneath her thigh. “My secondhusband is going to be nice to me,” she said.Seanlaughed. A pungent odor filtered through the vents. “That surebrings back memories,” he said. “Do you smell that?”“Smellwhat?”“Comeon. It smells like a summer frat party.”“Istill don't...”“Whoa,check it out.”Janetfollowed Sean's gaze out the passenger window. A mile-long, blackscar stretched back from the roadside. Corn stalks singed to nubsstudded scorched earth.
“Iguess in Kansas that qualifies as a forest fire,” he said.“Somemotorist probably tossed a lit cigarette. It happens all the time,”she said. “Speaking of cigarettes, please don't smoke this weekend.Not in front of my folks and not in their house.”“Youalready told me twice,” Sean said. “Relax, I packed patches.” Ahundred miles from her parents’ place and Janet was already gettingwound up. She'd fret all weekend, worried about what her parentsthought of their soon-to-be son-in-law. Sean could hardly wait forMonday and a return to the university and normalcy. How quickly hetired of playing the perfect fiancé. Hespotted a sign nailed to a stake next to the road. “Hey, a freecorn maze ahead. Let’s stop.”Janetshot him a pained look. “But we’re making good time.”“Exactly.I’ve been driving for hours and I need to stretch my legs. We’vegot plenty of time. Besides, I’ll finally get to sample some ofthose down-on-the-farm, Kansas-style, good times you brag about.It’ll be fun.”Janetsighed and put her book in the glove compartment. “Sure, why not. Iguess I could use a good stretch too. But we can’t stay long. Myfolks are expecting us for dinner.”Seanturned off the highway onto a strip of rutted dirt carved through thecorn. Weeds scraped along the undercarriage as the car bounced overthe two-track. The lane opened into a circular parking area ringedwith cars. “Wow, who knew it would be so popular?” he said. Backto Table of Contents