The Worst Thing About Skeletons
The worst thing about skeletons is that they’re heartless. It’s also true that they don’t have an ounce of bile in them, but this hardly makes up for it. I’ve only known one skeleton and he drove the ice cream truck that prowled my neighborhood like a jangling Jaws.
Tinkle tinkle tinkle
I was mowing the lawn one day when I heard the truck coming. The sound make the image of frosty popsicles and drippy ice cream sandwiches rise like mirages in my heat-addled mind. The truck pulled up and stopped next to me.
“Hey Mort,” I said.
“Hot day, isn’t it?” the skeleton said, leaning out, the afternoon sun gleaming on pearly white bone where his heart should have been.
“I’m on a diet,” I said. “You know that.” I’d been off ice cream for over 50 days. Ice Cream Anonymous had even given me a chip.
“For old time’s sake?” Mort said, holding out a Fudgsicle to me.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” I said, then had an idea. “Okay, fine. I’ll have one . . . when you gain one pound. How much do you weigh now?”
“17 pounds,” he said.
“Prove it,” I said. He came into the house and weighed himself: 17 pounds, 2 ounces. “The day you’re 18 pounds, 2 ounces, I’ll have an ice cream,” I said.
“No problem,” he said, grinning with all his teeth.
I saw him later that week, stocking up on calcium pills. Two weeks later, he stopped by. “I’m up 3 ounces,” he declared proudly. A month later, he’d made it up to 17 pounds 7 ounces. I wasn’t very worried.
The next week Mort showed up at my door. He was wearing a coat, which was odd for him. He usually only wore a coat in the fall to keep errant leaves from sticking in his rib cage.
“I’ve gained a pound,” he said quietly. “I’m 18 pounds 2 ounces now.”
“Really?” I looked hard at him. His bones didn’t look any thicker. I wondered vaguely if he’d gotten a brain.
He opened his coat. “I got a heart,” he said. I saw it sitting in his rib cage, pumping idly in a self-conscious way, like a shadow boxer who suddenly finds himself the main event.
“Fine, you won.” I fingered the 100-day chip in my pocket sadly.
“I’m sorry for before,” Mort said. “I didn’t understand.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a peeled apple perched on a cone of wrapped kale. “Snack?”
The Green-Walled Tower 
May 18th, 2015 at 10:38 pm
I love your humor! …..about the ‘good humor man’….😁
May 18th, 2015 at 10:51 pm
Thanks. 🙂 Glad to hear it.
May 19th, 2015 at 12:32 am
good one!
May 19th, 2015 at 1:30 am
An interesting and humorous take on the prompt. I am glad they both got what they wanted in the end.
May 19th, 2015 at 10:12 pm
Yeah, I’m a sucker for a win-win ending, at least sometimes.
May 19th, 2015 at 1:03 pm
That is neat! Mr. Skeleton got a heart and they both have a happy ending! I enjoyed this story!
May 19th, 2015 at 10:06 pm
Thanks! This is the kind of story my wife likes reading too. She’s kind-hearted.
May 19th, 2015 at 10:13 pm
That’s great. She sounds very sweet.
May 19th, 2015 at 4:51 pm
Oh David I love this so much…the image of him driving the truck is a riot.
The next week Mort showed up at my door. He was wearing a coat, which was odd for him. He usually only wore a coat in the fall to keep errant leaves from sticking in his rib cage.
errant leaves…oh my. you are TOO TOO FUNNY.
May 19th, 2015 at 10:06 pm
I love your comments, Susannah. Thank you so much. This is the kind of story I really like writing. 🙂
May 20th, 2015 at 12:39 am
I might be my favorite. I keep seeing a skeleton with his elbow out the window smoking a Lucky 🙂
May 21st, 2015 at 11:01 pm
That’s a great image. 🙂
May 21st, 2015 at 11:25 pm
Miss your writing.
May 23rd, 2015 at 9:11 pm
Thanks. I’ve been so busy these days. It sucks.
May 24th, 2015 at 4:13 am
It’s all so cyclical…you’ll regain your rhythms, you’ll see. And look at it this way, the absence of time to do what you love, makes it all the more cherished when you do have it. And always remember how brilliant you are. 🙂
May 24th, 2015 at 1:55 pm
Thanks, dear friend. Some of the time away from blogging I have been working on my novel, so at least there’s that.
May 24th, 2015 at 1:56 pm
As long as you’re writing David. Could be a fucking laundry list.
May 24th, 2015 at 1:57 pm
Amen to that. 😉
May 20th, 2015 at 1:05 am
I think I’m gonna cry now, David. This story is so bizarre. Love it! Now where did he get that heart?
May 21st, 2015 at 10:56 pm
Thank you, Amy. This is the kind of thing my wife likes too. Actually, right after I posted it, I heard her say “Awww” from living room and knew that she’d read it. 🙂
It’s best not to think where he got the heart, but let’s assume it was benign, using the same suspension of disbelief for the skeleton driving the ice cream truck. 😉
May 21st, 2015 at 11:00 pm
You know I can play along. 🙂