“Watch this,” he said around the cigarette. Linda’s twisted frame stood straighter, at attention. All those cigarettes he’d given over the years had bought respect. And respect, Pete knew, was in short supply anymore. Even birds shat on you. Actually, Pete rather loved Linda’s reverence for him, though he had never realized it. The truth would shock him, since she was a repulsive, haggard creature, below even his rung on the ladder of looks. Bald, fat, unshaven, and always glossed with grease from his kitchen – but, at least Pete owned his own business and bought his own tobacco.
So, Pete had a secret, confusing affection for Linda. What he most definitely did not love, especially then, was birds. His arm drew back a baseball-sized rock that he pitched at the bastards on the wire.
Linda cheered him on like a buzzsaw.
The arc of the rock crested five feet under the birds and fell with a thud onto Pete’s roof. The birds did not flinch.
“That was a warm-up,” said Pete.
“Let me try,” said Linda. She reached for his arm, but Pete pulled away. He nodded with confidence, cocked, and flung another heavy stone.
This attempt beat his previous record by only a foot. If there were any customers inside, they would have been alarmed by the rock banging on the roof.
Once again, the birds blinked at him. A swallow flew off, probably to round up reinforcements. Embarrassed, Pete said, “I never played baseball.”
Linda wrenched a rock from his possession. “High school softball champ,” she said with a twinkle. She spat her cigarette butt aside and stepped back, into the road. Squinting one eye, Popeye style, she lifted a leg and began whirling her arm in a wild pinwheel. Amazed, Pete withdrew from this dervish and watched as she let her underhand pitch fly.
Their smiles faded. Their eyes grew wide. The rock sailed easily ten feet over the line of birds, continued to rocket through the air, and landed behind the diner with a smash of glass.
A car alarm shrieked.
Horror stretched their faces like pilots in G-Force training. After a beat, Pete bolted into the diner and Linda scuttled along after him. He scooted behind the counter, and she reclaimed her stool. He took up a spatula as if he had been working; her jittery hands spilled coffee down her wrist.
I enjoyed this story very much. Pete and his customer, Linda’s, comradery, their “partners-in-crime” bonding, the shared laughter over the failed throwing attempts and subsequent “oh oh” hilarity bringing a bright shine to their otherwise mundane existence, was heartwarming. We could use more of those kind of connection moments in our own lives. Well done! Shame about the sign though, lol, silly birds.