Category Archives: Shorts

Conversations With My Sister – A Short Laugh

IMG_00000440My sister says some pretty entertaining things. As much as I love her, I thought I would share a few at her expense, and at your gain. I have no idea if you will find the scenarios I listed here amusing, or if its humour is a result of my connection with my family, yet I hope you are entertained.

Think of these in a Jennamarbles voice:

1- Chicken Wings.

Scenario: We are at a local restaurant. The female waitress comes up to us, about to take our order.

ME: I’ll get the souvlaki please.
WAITRESS: Ok, and for you? (looking at my sister, pen at the ready)
AKAYLA: (Sets her posture, begins to speak in a polite, proper tone) I’ll have the one ib of wings please! (pronounced ib. Literally.)
WAITRESS: Excuse me? (stifles a laugh)
AKAYLA: (In the same tone) One ib, it says right here!
ME: Akayla, thats L. B. It’s not an ib, it’s the symbol for pound.
AKAYLA: OHHH. Yeah ill have that.

2 – The Creature.

Scenario: I’m driving my sister back to our house at 1am. We live out in the middle of the woods, so there are few houses between our destinations. We see something on the road ahead of us.

AKAYLA: OHHH WHATS THAT! (pointing to a furry creature in the high beams)
ME: It’s a groundhog.
AKAYLA: No no its not.
ME: Akayla, it’s a groundhog.
AKAYLA: OH MY GOD.
ME: What?
AKAYLA: (Enthusiastic and pressed to the window) It must be, like, like, OMG A MiniBEAR.
ME: I don’t think thats real.
AKAYLA: YES. It definitely is. Pull over! Let me take a picture! Ohhh it’s running away.
ME: No, It’s a groundhog.
(It was a groundhog)

3 – Hot Sauce.

Scenario: We are discussing halloween costumes. She pulls out a picture on her phone and begins to explain to me what she’s going to be.

AKAYLA: I’m going to be hot sauce. Isn’t that great?
ME: Oh yeah? What does the costume look like?
AKAYLA: (shows me a picture on her phone) This is it. I ordered the T-shirt.
ME: Oh thats cool, where are you getting the Sriracha (Pronounced ser-ratch-ah. You know the company.) t-shirt?
AKAYLA: (pauses for a moment to think) Who is that?
ME: What?
AKAYLA: Who is that? I don’t know who Sir Ratcha is? I’ll look him up.
ME: (Laughing at a loss for words.)

I love my family.

Happy arting,

Isaac Olajos

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Fletching – A Short Narrarative

IMG_00000401It is your child.
Cradled about your fingers, gently.
You control it,
Shape it,
Riddle it with great expectations.

Then it slips;
From your grasp, into the world it flies.
You hope it will land on its mark,
That you have found it’s strength.
That you have prepared it for the winds it may encounter.

It must find flesh,
It must find meaning.
You must have a legacy.

Isaac Olajos

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Forward On; To Morning – A Dream Narrative

IMG_2599  A man stared into the distance. Cold fires sat in the sky, dethroning the sun. Its fingers cast the world in a dismal array. An oak railing sat on the edge of what seemed to be the end, holding us back from meeting it. The rail protested as the man lay his Burdens upon it. A bitter wind licked my tongue, lashing it for attempting to speak out of turn.

As I fell nearer, I could feel the air thickening like fog, yet I could see days ahead.  Something told me that he had something to say, to let me know that the world was enough for now, yet he gandered motionless, beyond the reaches of us: at an entity unknown.

My eyes followed the path his created. With every step, I scoured the horizon like a barren wasteland in search of water. I found none.

“Is it beautiful?” I said, teasing the age lines that the railing had held so proudly.

The man said nothing, but I knew he had listened. His leather skin bunched, splaying the stumps of hair on his jaw. His face came to life for a brief fragment of time. The light taunted the wear on his skin; leading eyes to the toll life had had on him. I touched my face as I felt age reflect onto me like a mirror.

His overworked hand rubbed the railing at his side, inviting me to rest. I could hear the callus wearing at the wood as he prepared Their final place. I too placed my Burdens on the oak, and with protest, it too accepted them.

His face glowed as he lit a cigar. The cherry began to illuminate as pulses of sweet smoke cleansed my senses. He let out a plume. It flowed along the path his vision had bore until it reached beyond what I could explore, filling the room of a place I did not know. The water hung beneath us, in a sleep tarnished by nightmares. Cars pulled the voice of the waves that reached out to the heavens. Replacing it with sickening sounds of metal and fire.

He reached out, pulling a thought from the air. Wrapping it around his fingers gently, lovingly, as if it was something he missed. I watched as his mind lifted from his body, returning to the only pleasures he once loved. In reappearance, he lifted himself from the rail. Gnarled grey hairs clung to the splinters in protest, but they were shunned. The rail did not resort back to its old form, spilling the mans Burdens back upon the earth. It held, like putty, it was silent. A streak of glowing red plummeted to the abyss below. A quick enjoyment, lost for eternity. The last scent flushed from my nostrils as its wake of sparks dissipated on to better things.

Turning, the mans bare feet scraped the well-trodden floors as he escaped the nights glowers. I lifted in haste; I knew he had an answer, yet the question had escaped me. As I left the still railing the only sound that challenged the putrid grind of automobiles was the scream of boards beneath my shoes. In that, I was rendered motionless.

I felt as though existence had absolved everything I owed, reanimating me, filling my lungs with cool crisp air like a frigid shower. I tried to reach out, to pull answers from the air like he did thoughts, yet I could not move. The world had turned me on its wheel until my walls could take no more; folded back into a ball I had to start anew.

As his thinning grey hair caught the last flicker of the fitful night, an inaudible sound bellowed from his chest, yet only I could hear.

“Come what may.” He said.

I didn’t need to know what might come, for I knew I would find it out, just as he once had.

-Isaac Olajos

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