Michael Jefferson

“If Opinions Were Dollars, Rockefeller Would Envy You” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #209

Francisco Bonilla laughs to himself when he sees Grady Quaid’s landscaping truck pull into the gas station’s parking lot. It’s Sunday, which means Francisco will have the company of a quartet of four opinionated sixty-year-old men to entertain him during his shift. Wiry, with a caterpillar mustache, gentle brown eyes, and ruddy but pleasant features, forty-two-year-old Francisco has worked at the Cumberland Farms in Shelby, Connecticut for a decade. He has been persistent in his effort to master English and speaks it more ably than many o...

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“Take Me Out of This Ballgame” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #208

Three curious teenagers sit on a hill above the baseball field watching Jovanny “Jumbo” Rotelli lumber around the bases. “It’s ninety-eight degrees and he’s been running wind sprints for the past half hour,” Aiden Burke comments. “When we beat Jumbo’s team, Mr. Rotelli is going to wonder why his son was gassed after three innings.” Pushing her glasses up off the end of her nose, Polly Progreski gives Aiden a challenging look. “You’re so sure you’re going to win?” the gangly brunette asks. “Two years ago, we beat the Bison’s 12-3 for the ...

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“Skeffingtown” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #207

“Cut!” director Carlo Romeo yells as Cosmo Skeffington wallops Monty Mulhare with a knee-buckling slap across his cheek. “Hey, what the hell was that?” Monty protests, rubbing his throbbing cheek. “We have to make it look good, don’t we?” “Yeah, but you don’t have to enjoy it so much.” “Three’s A Crowd,” a top ten comedy in its second season, centers around three men in their sixties who meet at a counseling group for divorced men. With a lilting, mannered British accent, two-time Oscar nominee Cosmo Skeffington plays Mortimer Clyde, a s...

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“Cheddar” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #206

The last person Nelson Donovan expected to see at the airport was Carol Austin. Carol still has her dimpled smile, freckled features, and hourglass figure. The girl holding her hand is her mini-carbon copy. Carol sighs with regret. Ten years have passed, but Nelson still has his striking good looks and athletic body. “What brings you here?” Nelson asks. “Gary Banks. I’ve been dreaming about him lately.” “Me too.” “Coincidence?” Carol asks. “I doubt it.” Driving to the hotel, they talk about the circumstances that brought them bac...

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“You’ll Want to Stay Away From the Spare Ribs” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #205

“I didn’t know I even had an Uncle Viktor, much less an uncle who was a national hero.” “He’s from the old country, and we seldom speak of LaRocca,” Pavel Pushkin replies. “No, you never speak about the old country. What’s it like?” Misha’s father gives him a loving but patronizing smile, saying, “Not exactly a playground for the Kardashians.” “From what your father has told me, even a native of Siberia might find LaRocca a bit old-fashioned,” Paisley, Misha’s mother says. “So, it’s not exactly, viva LaRocca. But Uncle Viktor seems to h...

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“Dirty Dan” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #204

Buckeye, Arizona 1888 Dan Dobler slithers down Main Street spitting tobacco juice, his blind, milky left eye enhancing his threatening personality. Dobler’s poverty-stricken appearance and penchant for violence have earned him the nickname “Dirty Dan.” Townspeople find it hard to believe that the twenty-six-year-old Dobler is heir to Calvin “King” Coleman’s “King’s Ransom,” the largest ranch in Buckeye. A curious hound dog trails Dobler. He turns toward it, kicking it in the side. “Git away from me, ya mangy cur!” The dog barks angril...

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“I Was Gonna Offer You a Brewski, But I see You’re Covered” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #203

Her hand shaking as she wipes the tears away from her rosy cheeks, Modesty Naylor, soda mogul Percival Warren Naylor’s shapely twenty-seven-year-old widow, leans against her mother Empress for comfort. Modesty’s babyish lisp endears her to the reporters and photographers gathered by her Olympic pool to interview her. “I wuved him. I weally did. But people wouldn’t wet me.” Embarrassed by the cutting headline he’d published the day before, (“Gorgeous Gold Digger Strikes Gold As 92-Year-Old Soda King Goes Pop!”). Eyewitness News Reporter Har...

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“You Killed My Daddy” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #202

Casper, Wyoming 1891 Buck Brumley takes a long pull off his whiskey glass. “I wanted to run away, but I didn’t have any money, so I’d stay anywhere folks in town would let me. After a few days, I’d go home and face my daddy’s wrath. One time, Cade caught me sleepin’ in his brother’s livery stable. Despite him bein’ well off and educated, and me bein’ poor and stupid, we hit it off. Cade got me a job at the stable. I kept needlin’ him that he was too young to be so serious, that we should be fourteen-year-old pirates and go off on adventur...

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“And You Have to Pay for the Elephant Too” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #201

London Langtree continues to twist the tuning pegs on his guitar, a task he began over an hour ago. As if to excuse his obsession, the frail, blonde-haired musical genius smiles boyishly at his bandmates. Axel Welch, Rails Rainsford, and Steady Eddie Evans glance nervously at each other as the rumble from the impatient crowd thunders in the background. “Gimme that!” Axel, Mystic Touch’s husky, short-tempered rhythm guitarist yells, yanking the instrument from London’s hands. Frustrated, Axel twists the tuning pegs until two of the strings...

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“Death Cab Confessions” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #200

The first thing Cliff Farren notices about the Director’s office is that everything is pure and blinding white. Looking at Margana, the Director of R.R. (Reprobate Renewal), Cliff’s thoughts turn less than pure. A striking beauty with platinum blond hair, Margana’s wide brown eyes cast a doubtful look at him. “When I was told I’d be seeing the Director, I was expecting some scrawny librarian with a hunchback, not somebody as stunning as Marilyn Monroe.” “Insincere sexist compliments won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Farren.” “I really mean i...

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“The Guardians of Yin and Yang” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #199

“Slow down,” Burton Bradshaw says, watching Matt Omar down his third vodka tonic. “Just getting my shore legs back.” “You think so?” the suave English bartender says. “Another one of those and you won’t be able to feel your legs. I think it’s odd that you work on a ship with unlimited booze- which you never touch - then you come here to drink like a fish.” “Maybe I like the company better.” “What company? You watch ESPN and drink alone. How was the cruise?” “Uneventful.” “There wasn’t a single dowager for you to prey on?” “No, I didn’...

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“Bouncin’ Benny and the Bonehead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #198

Bouncin’ Benny, the kingdom’s testy enchanted crow, caws, laughing. His mocking laughter echoes throughout Baldor the magician’s extravagant living quarters. “So, this is the kid you think can turn back the rebel army?” Chip, Baldor the magician’s seventeen-year-old apprentice, smiles meekly, his reed-thin body, freckles, and crippling shyness making him appear even younger. “Yes, he’s the one,” Baldor insists. The stocky, good-natured seventy-two-year-old Baldor has served King Ruppert Vontobel since the 1980s, and his father, Moonjack,...

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“Little Bill and The Dead Man’s Hand” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #197

Ryan August waits patiently as the green, blue, and white gases coalesce into the form of a head. With turquoise skin, arched eyebrows, intense pitch-black eyes, and a pointed black beard, the Great Maker’s presence is both wise and fearsome. “You summoned me, Great Maker?” Ryan asks humbly. The Great Maker’s voice is resonant and determined. “Yes. I have a new task for you. Since you performed so well in saving the Earp Brothers from the cowboys in Tombstone, I am sending you to Deadwood, South Dakota, in 1876. Your assignment is to save...

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“Sunny” by Michael Jefferson

Administrator Chao glances at the ancient black-and-white photograph of two smiling boys. The older boy, a lanky blonde with sad eyes, has a protective arm around the smaller, sandy-haired boy with a shy smile. “The little guy is my uncle Somerfield,” Christoph Brandt says. “Everybody called him Sunny because he had a sweet disposition.” “It’s a shame he died so young,” Chao replies, pushing her glasses up off the end of her nose as she examines Christoph’s request.  “I want to do this for Lucas, my father. He was only eleven when Su...

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“And By the Way, the Drummer is Dead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #195

Taking off his rose-colored sunglasses, Booker Fortune exits the elevator, snapping his fingers as Traffic’s “Rock N’ Roll Stew” plays in his head. The percussive tune gives his feet a jolt, and he dances into his talent office, waving at his assistant, Hedy. Booker’s agency manages half a dozen successful rock acts, none bigger than Topsoil. During their seven-year existence, Topsoil has released five chart-topping, multi-diamond selling albums, won a dozen Grammys, and played hundreds of sold-out concerts. The Achilles heel of the group h...

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