Welcome to Super-Short Storytime, lovers of literature and fans of fiction! I am Eduardo Soliz, the composer and narrator of the wonderfully weird words that you are about to hear:
Some people like to enjoy things that the majority of folks just don’t understand. This selection from my free e-book ‘ten tiny tales’ is an oration about one unfortunately ostracized oddball. I call it: “Freako.”
Alan walked into the office with a spring in his step and a big smile on his face. It was Friday, it was payday, and he would only be hanging around the office long enough to submit his time report for the week. He couldn’t wait to start his long weekend.
As he briskly walked through the office, a woman recognized him, “Hey, Al, I thought you weren’t coming in today, did something change?”
Alan stopped to chat, beaming as he answered: “Nope, I’m just here to put in my timesheet and then the fun begins!”
“Oh, that’s right.” The woman replied with a look of scorn on her face. “You’re going to that thing to hang out with all those freakos, huh?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call them weirdos, Janet, I mean, lots of people are going to be there, and…” Alan started to explain before Janet raised her hand to interrupt him.
“That’s okay Al, I don’t need to hear about what you all do there, dressed up in those weird outfits and all.” Janet quickly said.
“hhm…okay. Sorry, Janet.” Alan sheepishly said before continuing on his way. Arriving at his cubicle, he sat down and turned on his computer. While he waited for it to start, another coworker peeked his head in.
“What’s up, Al!” asked Jon as Alan turned to face him.
“Not much, Jon, I forgot to put in my time, and I want to get paid next week, so here I am.” Alan answered. “Hey, do you wanna join me at…”
“No way, man!” Jon exclaimed, his face grimacing at the thought. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at that sausage-fest! You have fun, though!” Jon said before ducking out of the cubicle.
Alan entered his time and then shut down the computer. Dejected, he sighed, and began to walk away from his desk to start his weekend. The smile on his face and the spring in his step were now gone.
“*sigh* Everybody makes fun of me just because I like something different.” Alan thought to himself as he left the building and slowly walked to his car. “I wish my coworkers would stop giving me crap for being a football fan!!”
It’s never easy being the odd man out, Listeners, so try to be nice. If you’d like to hear or read more super-short stories scribed and said by yours truly, visit eduardosoliz.com This has been Super-Short Story time. Remember, listeners, we’re all weirdos to somebody!
You are listening to ‘300
Seconds with Eduardo Soliz,’ and this is episode number 93, “So This is
Christmas,” so let the 300 Seconds begin!
I’ve been in a funk this Christmas season; it just hasn’t
been the same as in years past. I sold
my house a few months ago and in the meantime, I have been rooming in with some
friends. It’s been pleasant for the most
part, but not having a place of my own means that I’ve missed out on a few Christmas
things. Things like putting up and decorating my little Christmas tree after
Thanksgiving, stringing up lights on my house.
Even the little USB Christmas tree that I usually keep at my work desk sits
somewhere in my storage unit, unused.
Granted, I don’t even HAVE a desk these days, but that’s a podcast for
What bums me out the most, though, is that for the
first time in years, I won’t be making Christmas cookies for my friends. My work schedule right now includes weekends
and I can’t squeeze in a full day of baking and another full day of making
deliveries into my schedule. Complicating
matters is that it’s a temp job, so I don’t have any paid time off. I’ve also been told that the job is ending soon,
but I haven’t been given a definite end date, so every new week at work might
be my last. Yeah, thanks, guys.
Otherwise, Christmas has gone on as usual: Gifts have been bought, I have another group
of favorite Christmas songs to add to my website, and I have already written a
Christmas story. Granted, the story wasn’t
quite as happy as those in years past, but that seems appropriate. Funny thing: I’ve actually written a second,
more optimistic story to make up for the dreariness of the first one. It’ll be up soon.
My mood will likely improve when I go visit my family
for Christmas next week. Cookies will be
baked and gifts will be delivered, and that’s always fun. Spending a few days with friends and family
always lifts my spirits, but until then, I’ll muddle along as best I can.
This has been 300 Seconds,
the next episode will be posted after I wrap my Christmas gifts. I am Eduardo Soliz. For more podcasts, short stories, and my
blog, visit Eduardo Soliz dot com. Thank
you for listening and a very Merry Christmas to you!
You are about to hear one side of a chat that may be taking place this afternoon or maybe tomorrow, assuming it hasn’t already. It involves a speaker who wants to get something off of their chest and a listener who is there for their own reasons. I call this curious conversation: ‘Confession.’
How are you?
I’m fine, just busy, you know?
You, me, and everybody else. Remember when today wasn’t so busy and everybody stayed at home?
Yeah, me too. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I think it got this way because of me.
How? *sigh* Well, about six years ago, I saw Santa Claus.
Yeah, I know, everybody thinks I’m crazy, but I saw him. I didn’t even hear him or anything, I just wandered into the living room because I just had this feeling, you know? And there he was, leaving gifts under the tree.
Apparently when you catch Santa in the act, he grants you a wish…anything you want, in exchange for keeping his secret.
I wished that it could be Christmas all year…hey, I was eleven years old, it sounded good to me!
Santa tried to talk me out of it. He said something about ‘the balance,’ but like I said, eleven years old. Santa said okay, and disappeared.
Ever since then, the Christmas decorations go up a little earlier, people start putting their lights a little bit earlier, and you start hearing Christmas music a little bit earlier. Like I said, I think it’s my fault.
Why am I telling you this? Well, I guess that I hope that if I break my promise to keep his secret, he’ll break his, and things will go back to the way they used to be…I guess Santa never breaks his word, even when it’s a good idea.
Crazy, huh? I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t believe me. I don’t believe it myself, sometimes…but well, here we are…and here’s your receipt, ma’am. You have a nice day. *sigh*
Tis the season, so the saying goes, Dear Listeners, but which one? It gets harder and harder to tell. For more telling tales told by me, visit Eduardo Soliz dot com. This has been Super-Short Storytime and regardless of which one you’re celebrating: Happy holiday, listeners!
You are listening to ‘300 Seconds with Eduardo Soliz,’ and this is episode number 92, “Needless Things,” so let the 300 Seconds begin!
Now that the Texas weather has taken a turn for the slightly cooler, I’ve been talking walks around the neighborhood to get some exercise, fresh air, and sunshine. Some days I walk in the morning, and some days I walk in the evening. As I go around the neighborhood, I’ll often see people outside, watering their lawns, playing with children, tending to plants, or sometimes cleaning out their garages.
The garages intrigue me; they are nearly always packed to the gills with all kinds of stuff: Bicycles, tools, lawn mowers, children’s toys, exercise equipment, and, of course, boxes. Stacks and stacks of boxes, oftentimes nearly piled up to the ceiling. Cars, SUVs and trucks are often relegated to the driveway or to the street. No room at the inn, as it were.
Seeing all of those garages filled with boxes made me think about all the stuff that I kept in my house; I’m not that bad, I reassured myself. After all, I had enough room left in my garage to use it for its intended purpose, so I’m not one of those people.
That notion got thrown out of the window when I sold my house. I got a realtor and began moving out in anticipation of the house being shown to potential buyers. The realtor drilled it into my head that I had to make sure to remove or secure anything that was ‘stealable’ from the house before the showings started. Right or wrong, I interpreted that as ‘get all of my DVDs, Blu-Rays, video games, comic books, books-books, music CDs and nearly all of my computer stuff out of the house.’ As my storage unit slowly began to fill up with boxes, I began to realize, that yes, I did have quite a bit of stuff myself.
By the time the house went on the market and the showings began, I had done a pretty good job of minimizing the amount of stuff that was inside, by either putting stuff into storage or giving stuff away to charity. In many cases, I had two of the same thing that I either didn’t need anymore or I didn’t see myself needing in the future because my next residence will probably be an apartment. One computer went into storage. The second television set that was kept in the bedroom for guests, I sold for cheap to a relative and I did the same with the second living room sofa.
It felt odd to see my house without a lot of the stuff inside of it that made it, well, mine. As a concession to myself, I left the artwork hanging on the walls, as if to say: This house might be up for sale, buster, but until you sign a check, it’s still my house, dagnabbit.
I lived with less stuff for a few weeks as the sale of the house went through, and except for a few moments when I wanted to watch a particular movie, I didn’t really miss the stuff all that much. Granted, I didn’t get rid of everything, I still had my Xbox for entertainment. I moved in with some friends after selling the house, and most of the stuff that I had kept in storage, remained there. The experience made me realize that I can do without quite a bit of stuff, so maybe I’m not doing that bad, after all.
I think we need find a new word to describe the storage units that garages seem to inevitably become. Instead of being a place to store a vehicle, garages have become a place to keep the needless things in our lives; old things that will likely never be used again and yet, they are the things that we just can’t bear to part with. I won’t lie, though. Once I get life squared away and I’m back at my own place, those needless things will be back in my life, taking up space. Or maybe not. After all, I probably won’t have a garage to keep them in, and paying somebody to keep my needless things stashed away kind of sucks.
This has been 300 Seconds, the next episode will be posted after I make a run to my storage unit. If you’d like to hear or read more of my words visit Eduardo Soliz dot com. Thank you for listening!
As the writer in this story is about to learn, just because someone else has a different job than you do doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s easier. Featured in Fuzzy Words, this furry fracas is titled “Where Credit Is Due.”
The weasel’s tail swished back and forth rapidly as he paced back and forth in his living room with a cell phone held up to one ear. “The script is done, Mark, but I can’t seem to get the songs down, and well, you can’t have a musical without music, right?” He joked in a feeble attempt to appease the angry producer he was speaking with.
Mark was not pleased at William’s attempt at humor, and he let the nervous weasel know: “This is not the time for jokes, Will! I am going to be out several thousand dollars for your advance, not to mention a lot more if you don’t give me a script to put on! It’s been nine months! What’s going on in that head of yours? Are you homesick? Girl trouble? Guy trouble?”
William hesitated before answering. “Do you really want to know, Mark?”
Mark regained some of his composure and eagerly replied, “Well. Yeah, Will. This delay isn’t doing either one of us any good, so…so let’s talk it through and figure this thing out for both our sakes. What’s eating you, man?”
William let out a heavy sigh before answering: “Well, it’s that, uh, I haven’t seen my Muse lately, and, well, I’m pretty useless without her.”
This time, a flabbergasted Mark hesitated briefly before speaking. “Whoa. I did not just hear that. Did you say your Muse?” he asked with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah. My Muse…”
“WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING, WILL? That has to be THE nuttiest thing I’ve heard in all my years working on Barkway! Have you lost your mind? You know what? Don’t answer that, ‘cause I think I already know. I need a finished script by the end of next week, or you are finished working in this town, do you understand me? FINISHED. Nobody will touch you with a twenty-foot leash after I’m done. Get some help and get it done, Will!”
Even the beep that William heard as Mark ended the call sounded angry. William collapsed onto his living room sofa, closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. My career is over, William thought as he dropped his cell phone onto the carpeted floor and contemplated the dreary future ahead of him.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes to find her there. His Muse. She was a short, sprightly thing: a mink almost completely covered in brown fur except for her muzzle, which was white. She stood over him and looked down at William with a big goofy grin on her face. William stared back for a few moments before the Muse finally broke the silence.
“Hi-eee!” she cheerfully said as she waved a hand in front of William’s face. In response, he groaned and rubbed his eyes before sitting up on the sofa. This was not the reaction that the Muse was expecting, and she began to pout: “Hey, I thought that you’d be happy to see me, Willie!”
“It’s William, and just where have you been?” an agitated William answered. “I need to finish this play because I’ve got a producer breathing down my neck, and if I don’t get it done, he’s going to want his advance back. You know, the one I already used to pay my rent.”
The shocked Muse took a step back. She opened her mouth to speak, but William cut her off:
“What is it with you, anyway? You’re never there when I need you. You pop up at the worst possible times, or at the last minute, like now. You can’t show up whenever I’m sitting at my laptop, you know, WHEN I’M TRYING TO WRITE. No, that makes too much sense. Instead, you pop up whenever you feel like it, like when I’m in the shower, or when I can’t sleep at two in the morning, or when I’m out on a date. I then have to drop whatever it is I’m doing so I can jot something down because I have NO DOGGONE IDEA when you’re going to decide to grace me with your presence again!”
For a moment the Muse looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Instead, she regained her composure, took a deep breath, stepped towards William, and unleashed a tirade of her own:
“Oh, so you think it’s so easy to do MY job? You think you’re the ONLY so-called ‘creative’ person that needs a little extra help every now and then? Well, let me tell you, Buddy, you AREN’T. Every day, I have to help loads of people just like you finish their books or their poems or their scripts or their songs or their paintings or their sculptures. Every. Single. Day. It never ends: ‘I’m on a deadline!’ ‘My assignment is due next week!’ “My mom’s birthday is tomorrow!’ ‘Help me!’
So I show up, inspire somebody, and what I get for my trouble? Nothing! Nada, zero, zip, zilch. When people say: ‘Oh, what a wonderful work of art,’ does the artist ever mention me? No. Do you ever hear somebody say, ‘Thank you, Muse,’ in an acceptance speech? NO! I-I don’t even get residuals!”
A bewildered William interrupted her. “But you’re a Muse…what would you even do with money?” He asked.
“SHUT UP!” she snapped back. “It’s the principle!” she said, turning away from William.
William started to approach the Muse, but since her long fluffy tail was in the way, he walked around to face her.
“So you’re just looking for some recognition, huh?” William asked.
“Just a little would be nice.” The Muse said coyly.
William thought for a moment, and then his face lit up. He enthusiastically asked the Muse, “What if, I were to write a play with you in it?”
The Muse pointed a finger at herself before speaking. “With little old me?” she said with feigned modesty.
“Sure. It will be…” William took a step back, assumed a dramatic pose and spoke as if he were narrating a movie trailer: “The inspirational tale of a guy who’s down on his luck. He can’t get a break, and just when he’s hit rock bottom and things can’t get any worse…” he stopped to point at the Muse with both hands, “His Muse appears out of the blue and saves his tail!”
“Yay!” chirped the Muse in a delighted tone, clapping her hands as she excitedly hopped up and down on both feet. “I’d like that, Willie. I really would. Have you thought of a name for it yet?”
William stifled a laugh before answering: “What else could I call it? Un-a-mused!”
With a smile and a wink, the Muse replied, “Yeah, I think I’ll let you take the credit for that one, Willie!”
Inspiration is where you find it, Dear Listeners, that is, assuming it doesn’t find you first. For more super-short, super-silly stories, visit Eduardo Soliz dot com. This has been Super-Short Storytime, and remember, listeners; always cite your sources!
You are listening to ‘300 Seconds with Eduardo Soliz,’ and this is episode number 90: A few words before Furry Invasion: The Road to Furdition, so let the 300 Seconds begin!
Furry Invasion will be happening at the El Tropicano Riverwalk hotel in San Antonio this weekend, October 5-7 with badge pickup happening tomorrow night. Because life has been getting in the way of my fun lately, I will only be at Furry Invasion Saturday and Sunday afternoon. I’ll be presenting my Furry 101 panel on Saturday afternoon at 5PM in the Bolivar C room. If you or someone you know would like to know more about the fandom, then come on down.
This is the second year for Furry Invasion; last year’s show was a solid first effort that had a few hiccups here and there, including a few that affected me personally, so just a heads up, this is going to get just a little bitey.
The biggest issues that I had last year were the slow registration line and the panel schedule being disorganized. The problem with registration last year was that attendees were required to print their registration sheets at the convention which slowed down the process considerably. At other conventions, attendees are allowed to print out their preregistrations beforehand, allowing them to be processed much more quickly. I’m happy to report that I was allowed to print out my registration paperwork after paying, so that should make things more efficient. While that problem appears to have been solved, a new one has been introduced by the convention’s choice to put registration in the hotel’s ballroom, which is in the back of the hotel and on the third floor. This is going to make signage VERY important and staff should also be aware of how to get to registration so they can direct people there.
My second beef last year was with the panel scheduling; the schedule that was printed in the conbook ended up being different than the actual schedule, due to some changes being made after the original schedule was made. This led to some confusion among attendees and presenters, including myself. Fortunately, the Powers That Be decided to make the schedule digital this year, which means that last minute-changes can be made without fear of ending up with an outdated print schedule, so good on them. What I’m hoping happens is that they print out each panel room’s schedule and post it outside so folks can see what is happening.
While Furry Invasion has made efforts to fix their registration and panel scheduling issues from last year, one thing that was sadly not addressed, was the weather. Now, you may be asking yourself: What can the convention do about the weather? Well, they can try to push the con ahead a week or two in the hopes that the weather cools down. Cooler weather makes it easier for fursuiters to go outside and have fun, puts less strain on the venue’s air conditioning and is just nicer. Should there be a third go-round, Furry Invasion really needs to look at pushing their date forward a week or two.
I openly admit that yes, I am harping on the convention a bit, but that’s mainly because the first two issues I mentioned were really touchy issues for me personally. As I mentioned at the top, the first Furry Invasion went well; if the registration and panel problems weren’t there it likely would have been a great show instead of a good one. Year two should be better since steps have been taken to address most of the issues from last year and the staff will have a year of experience under their belt to build on.
This has been 300 Seconds, the next episode will be posted after the convention. I am Eduardo Soliz, if you’d like to hear more 300 seconds subscribe to this podcast or check out my website at Eduardo Soliz dot com for more podcasts and short stories. Thank you for listening!
In the future, a pair of friends join the Space Force but don’t exactly end up where they want to be. In light of current events, I should mention that this story was written in 2014. Of course, lots of other folks have had similar notions for years.