The group congregated, as they always did, on Saturday morning, weather permitting at the old school yard. Inclement conditions found them at the local delicatessen — where the owner didn’t mind hearing their laughter and raised voices. Business was slow at this old fashioned deli so it wasn’t like customers were turned away due to the group’s presence.
The owner, Nate, would occasionally look at the group and wonder what they had in common. After all this time he knew their names, at least.
This particular Saturday Carole and Charles sat waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Carole’s golden sweater set off her short, curly red hair giving off a cheerful impression. So far the day showed promise of total boredom. She listlessly played with the ice in her coke twirling it around with her straw and frowning into the glass. Charles hated cold weather. The south is where he called home and how he ended up in this huge, northern, cold city he just didn’t know.
The restaurant door opened letting in a blast of frigid air and Joey.
Carole looked up, with brightened eyes. “Joey, about time you got here. What’s that you’re carrying? It looks heavy.”
Charles didn’t say anything, just smiled his sweet grin at Joey. Joey always made everyone laugh.
The newcomer carefully placed his package on the table, shrugged out of his coat and looked around. “Where is everyone?”
Carole said, “They all seem to be late today.”
Joey plunked himself into the seat. “Look what I found!”
Squinting at him, Carole said, “What you found? Or what you ‘borrowed’?”
Nate stopped by the table and asked Joey what he wanted. Joey ordered a black coffee. He was the only one of the group who drank coffee. ”Oh, and a piece of blueberry pie, if you’ve got any.” Nate nodded and headed to the counter to get Joey’s order. They always had blueberry pie. It was a good seller.
Beaming Joey showed off what he had brought. “Look, it’s a Troll for the yard. Isn’t it ugly?”
He was terribly pleased with his prize. Carole and Charles examined the thing. Yep, it certainly was ugly. A thought popped into Carole’s head. It must have been a case of sheer madness for you to pick up that piece of junk.
With a hurt expression, in response to the others’ withering looks, Joey replied, “No, I did not steal it. How can you say such a thing?” Joey was known to bend the rules of the law, on more than one occasion.
The eatery was practically devoid of people so the train whistling by made quite the clatter. The train tracks were a block from the deli.
Charles perked up. “Listen to the sound of that train. Notice how it changes as it goes by?”
Carole and Joey just looked at him. He was a quiet sort though at the moment he seemed quite animated. “It’s called the Doppler shift. That change in sound.”
They all listened as the train continued down the line.
“Boy that train seemed to take forever to go by. It’s like sands going through an hour glass.”
Joey, exasperated by this gobbledygook from Charles asked “What the hell are you talking about man?”
Abashed, Charles admitted that he belonged to a writing group called Blogophilia. Though he had no idea what the word meant, nor what a blog could possibly be–this was decades before the advent of computers, so it was strange indeed. “These were the prompts that we had to use this week so I used them!”
Fed up, Carole, with sarcasm dripping in her tone, looked at Charles. “Yeah, next you’re gonna tell me the group is run by a Martian! You certainly sound like one!”
Just then, the rest of the group fell into the place at the same time and the subject was dropped.
Blogophilia 17.4 Topic: “A Troll for the Yard”
(Hard, 2pts): use “sands going through an hour-glass”
(Easy, 1pt): mention Doppler shift