(See below for story). The second NYC Midnight flash fiction challenge had equally poor timing for me. I had to get up at 4:20 Saturday morning to drive to Prague Lake, OK. for the Cougar Prowl Endurance Ride (Catch-riding at Cougar Prowl). My mom messaged me my assignment:
Crime Caper: Biology classroom: A metal bucket
My mom also texted me the definition of crime caper (NYC Midnight’s genre definitions). I had no idea (but I recognized it when I heard the description). I told myself I would think about it as I rode, and plan… Afterall, half of writing is planning. Maybe more than half.
But I didn’t plan that much. I ended up writing my story Sunday morning, in about an hour, and submitting immediately. What with work (as a postdoctoral research fellow) and incessant blogging, I have very little spare time, and I’d used it all up for the week on the endurance ride. Now, as I read over the story after pasting it below, I realize I didn’t even mention that the location is a biology classroom. It’s obvious, but…
The location was a source of inspiration for me, however. An old family friend passed recently. He was a high school biology teacher, and a very good one. He had snakes. This isn’t much of a story, but I wrote it, such as it is, for him. (My first story was much better: Half a turn, give or take)
The bucket, the snake, and no pot at all
Synopsis: Two boys try to steal a snake while their class dissects frogs. The snake-napping doesn’t go as expected.
“What’s in the bucket?” Laura pulled her leather purse close and leaned over the desk.
“Pot,” said Chucho, moving it out of her sight.
“NOT pot you idiot!” Brian hissed, pushing Chucho towards the back of the classroom. “It’s to help with the frogs,” he said over his shoulder to the giggling Laura.
“I meant,” Chucho said, loudly, “it’s a pot, not a bucket.”
Brian rolled his eyes as they slid into their chairs. “Shut up about pot, stupid. Anyway, it’s a bucket. It’s from my dad’s shop. If he says it’s a bucket, it’s a bucket.”
“Buckets are plastic, that’s metal, for cooking. My mom cooks in something just like that,” Chucho hissed.
Before Brian could reply, the door to the lab swung open. Mr. Cozad came in and slid behind his desk.
The class fell quiet. Today they were going to prepare their lab stations for frog dissection. The air felt hot with revulsion, eagerness, and fascination. Yesterday Pablo and Yang had opted out of the dissection with impassioned pleas for frog lives.
“Dude, we should’ve had moral objections too,” Brian had grumbled as they planned late last night. “We could’ve hung out here doing alternative projects while everyone else was in lab.”
“Then he’d’ve known it was us,” Chucho pointed out.
By that time they’d already made their plans. Everyone would be in lab, obsessed with the frogs. Of course anyone could come into the classroom at any time, but that’s why they had to do it now. Other lab sessions were boring by comparison. People were in and out of the classroom all the time, sneaking a look at their phones, grabbing a kiss.
Frogs were a different story. They had an excuse and a plan.
As everyone filed into the lab, Brian made a show of picking up the metal bucket. He dropped it onto the ground with a clang when Chucho and he got to their lab station.
In a few second Mr. Cozad was standing looking at them, arms crossed. “What’s in the bucket?”
“Pot,” corrected Chucho.
Behind them, Laura and Selena giggled. Mr. Cozad raised an eyebrow.
“Chucho thinks it’s a pot,” Brian said hastily. “There’s nothing in it. We thought we could help move the frogs with it.” He took the lid off the bucket. “See? Empty.”
Mr. Cozad barely looked at it. “We don’t need it for the frogs. They’ll go straight into jars. Take it to the classroom.” He walked away.
The boys looked at each other. Brian picked up the bucket and jerked his head for Chucho to follow.
They made it to the aquariums at the back of the classroom. Brian set the bucket on the floor. “You get her,” he ordered.
Chucho looked at the snake. “Will she fit in the pot?” he wondered. Julia was a four-foot ball python with a mild temperament. Still, they’d never held her.
“It’s a big bucket. Just pick her up.”
“What are you doing to Julia?” Yang’s soft voice made Brian jump.
“Admiring her,” Chucho said quickly. Brian kicked the bucket under the table.
“Let’s get her out while Cozad’s busy with the lab,” Yang said. She opened the aquarium door and reached in.
The boys looked at each other. Yang was clearly not as Miss Perfect as they had thought, but she would hardly help them steal the snake. She might get them in trouble for nothing. Chucho pulled the tablecloth over the bucket and they went back to lab.
In preparation for their crime, the boys had already done the digital dissection. It took them only a few minutes to set up the materials for tomorrow. Following a whispered debate about the suitability of chloroform for snake sedation, Brian went directly to the hall “to get air” and Chucho slipped into the classroom a few seconds later.
They stood looking down at Julia, stretched out lazily. There was no sign of Yang. Brian had the open bucket between his legs. “Pick her up,” he hissed.
“You pick her up!” Chucho shifted from foot to foot. “I can distract Mr. Cozad.”
“You stay here!” Brian snapped. He rolled his eyes and opened the aquarium. As he put his hands around the snake as their teacher had shown them, the door to the lab creaked. “Fuck!” He stepped back hastily. “OK go distract him.”
Chucho had barely moved when the door opened. Two girls entered.
“What are you two up to?” Selena demanded.
Chucho grabbed the bucket. The girls jumped as the lid clanged to the floor then dissolved in laughter when Chucho said, “Getting the pot!”
“Bucket,” Brian snapped.
Chucho was for giving up, but the next day, halfway through frog dissections, Brian turned pasty white.
“You still have that pot from yesterday?” Mr. Cozad asked.
“It’s just a bucket,” Chucho said as he helped Brian to the classroom.
Brian gulped cold coffee. Chucho stood looking down at the coiled Julia, open bucket at his feet. “How much was Rod gonna pay us?”
“$200.”
“Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to buy one at a pet store?”
“No idea.” Brian shrugged, no longer sick. “Anyway it’s gotta be Julia.”
“You get her then.” Chucho stepped back.
“I get $125 then,” Brian snapped. He reached in, slid his hands under the snake, and lifted her into the bucket. Most of Julia overflowed.
Chucho swore. “Now what?”
They looked at the adjacent aquarium. Juana was a two-foot ball python.
“Get her!” Brian hissed as he put Julia back.
They heard voices in the hall. Chucho grabbed Juana, shoved her into the bucket, put the lid on, and placed it under their desk.
As they left lab that afternoon, Mr. Cozad called out, “Got your puke pot?”
Brian nodded, not bothering to correct. The bucket felt light. “Let’s dip,” he said to Chucho.
When they got to the parking lot, Rod asked, “She’s in the bucket?”
“In the pot,” Chucho said.
They removed the lid. The bucket was empty.
in memory of Jeff Cozad
And yeah, I haven’t really been able to participate in the social life of NYC Midnight.. the fora with all the useful feedback. In fact, these two blog posts are just so I can now share my stories. Not going to use google drive (because my drive is full).