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by NYPen Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Writing.Com · #1912752
This was a short story assignment for a writing class years ago.
      The icicles are hanging long off the eaves of Heimel Ruffkin's roof as a chill shook his body.  He pulled the covers of his blanket tight around his neck as drool froze to his long, scraggly, salt and pepper beard.  His peripheral vision saw the blinking of his alarm clock making his heart drop. He never woke up late in all of his forty-one years and wasn't happy that his day was starting off with a crack in his schedule. 

      "Oh no."  Screamed Heimel.  "This is not how I wanted my day to start so I blame that digital alarm." 

He jumped out of bed racing to the bathroom greeting the edge of the bed with his big toe.  His vision blurred as stars appeared causing him to bite his lip, muttering and holding his toe.  Since his schedule is taking a step back he knew a lot of what he had to do wasn't going to get done.  Trying to shower quickly the soap slipped out of his hand.  He bent over picking it up and on the way up cranked his head into the tub faucet bringing pain he had never experienced.  He slid his hand over his head and felt a large welt growing. 

      "My Yarmulke will cover the spot." Heimel thought as he grimaced in pain. 

        Drying himself off he gingerly stepped out of the tub and made his way to the closet.  He had his pants neatly arranged as well as his shirts and shoes.  His prayer cords were in a place where he could reach them.  Pulling at a pair of pants the clothing rod came crashing down.  Grumbling he picked up a pair of pants out of the jumbled mess and slid them on.  He pulled a shirt out of the mess and slid that on while trying to step around the chaos on the floor. 

        He went to the drawer to retrieve his Yarmulke knowing that one was in the laundry and the other one was available but he hadn't worn that one in a while.  He pulled it out of the drawer but to his dismay and frustration there was a big hole right where it would have covered the welt on his head.  He picked up his fedora, walked out of the house and got into his car and headed to the grocery store. 

        Heimel arrived at the grocery parking lot slowly circling counting the times he went around tying to find a spot.  He didn't want to park too far away and have to walk.  His eyes lit up as he noticed an empty spot and made his way there pulling in making sure he was between the lines.  He cut the engine of the vintage Volkswagen bus cutting the radio announcer off in mid sentence.  He loved talk radio because it was the only way he could talk back to something and not get into a conflict.  He believed this because that's what his psychiatrist told him. 

        His eyes darted back and forth as he locked his car door.  He hated parking lots because there were unsavory characters lurking about.  His pace was brisk as were his nerves which calmed down when the sliding glass doors to the entrance slid open.  He knew he wouldn't be long since he was only picking up Matzo and grape juice. 

        "I'm not stopping to talk to anyone."  Heimel said shuffling toward aisle ten. 

        He picked up the matzo and noticed something was very different.  These were not the ordinary Matzo he usually bought. 

        "These are not kosher."  He yelled throwing the box to the floor. 

        Customers shot nervous looks in his direction while children looked from behind their parent's legs.  Sydney Owens, manager of the Edible Palate looked up from rearranging a corner shelf.

        "May I help you?"  Sydney asked while she assessed the situation. 

        "I don't think so."  Heimel said surrounded by boxes of Matzo he had thrown on the floor. 

        "What's going on here?"  Sydney asked with a confused look on her face. 

        "You don't have any kosher Matzo."  Heimel said shoving the box in her face. 

        "I apologize for that."  Sydney said as her eyes shifted back and forth.  "Our supplier shut down operations." 

        "You are not telling the truth."  Heimel shouted shoving the rest of the boxes off the shelf onto the floor. 

        "I must advise you to stop doing that."  Sydney said calmly. 

        Heimel threw his fedora on the floor and grabbed his hair with both of his hands while Sydney stood firm. 

        "I'm going to ask you to leave sir."  Sydney said. 

        "This is not over."  Heimel said.  "I will be back."  Pushing past Sydney knocking down a case of soda. 
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