Science Fiction - Daily Short Stories
Celebrity - James McKimmey, Jr
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- Duration:
- 9m
- Broadcast on:
- 14 Jul 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
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Let renters' warehouse handle the hard part of property management for you, like finding quality tenants you can trust. Renters' warehouse manages thousands of single-family homes and specializes in locating reliable tenants at the right price for your property, usually in a matter of days. And if your tenant defaults for any reason, they'll replace them for free up to 18 months under their tenant warranty program. From rent collection to maintenance coordination, their best-in-class property management professionals do it all. All for one flat monthly fee, get a free rental price analysis at renterswarehouse.com To find out how much your home can rent for, that's renterswarehouse.com Or call 303-974-9444 to speak to a rent estate advisor today. "Celebrity" by James McKimme, Jr. June 19, 1978, "Celebrity Day." The city stretched. Empty streets glistened from the bath of a water truck. Dew-wet grass winked at the fresh peeping sun, like millions of shimmering diamonds. A bird chirped. Another. The city yawned. Rose of houses lay like square ivory beads on patches of green felt. A boy drove his bicycle down the middle of an elm-bordered avenue, whistling loudly, while tightly rolled newspapers arched from his hand and slapped against porches. Light snapped on in a thousand windows, shining yellowly against the cool whiteness of dawn. Men blinked and touched beard-stubbled chins, women moved sleepily toward porcelain and chrome kitchens. A truck roared and garbage pales rattled. There was a smell of sour orange rinds and wet leaves and unfolding flowers. Over this came the smell of toasting bread and frying bacon. Doors swung open, slippered feet padded across porches and hands groped for the rolled newspapers. The air was stricken with the blaring sound of transcribed music and the excited voices of commercial announcers. The doors swung shut and the sounds were muted. A million people shifted and stretched and scratched. The sun rose above the horizon. Celebrity day. Doors slammed again and half consumed cups of coffee lay cooling behind. Children wiped its sleepy eyes and mothers swept crumbs, touching self-conscious fingers at their own bed-ruffled hair. Laborers and clerks and lawyers and doctors strode down sidewalks and climbed into automobiles and buses and sleek-nosed elevated trains. The city moved. To the center of the city where the tall building stretched to the lighting sky came the horde, made thousands of ants toward a comb of honey, wheels sang in wind, horns blasted, whistles blew, and waiting strung above the wide streets between the cold marquees and the dead neon tubes where the banners and the flags and the bunting. The air warmed and the sun brightened. Voices chattered, elbows nudged. Mouth smiled, teeth shone, and there was the sound of laughter rising over the pushing throngs. The city was happy. The bunting dipped and the banners fluttered and the flags whipped. At the edge of the city the airport tightened itself, waiting, waiting for the silver and blue rocket, the rocket of the celebrity. A large hotel towering above the pulsing streets began the quiver of activity. As though a great electric current had been run through its cubes and shafts and hollows, the hotel crackled. Desk clerks clicked bells and bellboys hopped. Elevators rose and fell. In the cellar, wine bottles were dusted by quick, nervous hands. In the kitchen a towering cake was frosted and decorated. Orders cracked. Hands flew and feet chattered against tile. In one rich expanse of sweet, a giant hoop of multi-colored flowers was placed in the center of a room. It was in the air. Laughter, awe, worship, excitement. Ropes went up and stretched between lamp posts. Blue-coated men on horses began blocking streets. Old women with wooden boxes, children with flashing eyes, men in rich suits and tattered suits began filling the sidewalks. Curbs became lined with people, bars threw open doors, and fresh air met stale air. Men with fat faces, thin faces, white faces, red faces, twitching with the anticipation of holiday freedom, gulped jiggers of raw whiskey and shuttered happily. Children giggled and yelled and sprinted in crazy zigzags. Men in white caps hustled in front of the lined curbs, shouting, carrying their boxes of ice cream. Men with buttons, men with penance, men with balloons joined the shouting, and the sound rose in the air, and the city smiled and shifted, and its heart pounded. The hotel whirled inside itself, the airport tensed and searched the sky. Time moved and the swelling throngs jammed the sidewalks, raising their strengthening sound between the tall buildings. Windows popped open and faces beamed. Tentative showers of confetti drifted down through the air. The city waited, its pulse thumping. The rocket was a black point in the sky, it grew. White-suited men scattered over the landing strip. Photographers crouched. Bulbs snapped into reflectors. Cameras pointed, the rocket landed. A door snapped open. Blue uniforms converged and flash bulbs popped. There were shouts and orders and men running. Gates swung and there was a blue-rimmed movement to a black open car. Sirens moans screamed, and the black car was moving swiftly into the city. Beneath the buildings, marching bands and red and blue and yellow uniforms stood assembled. Girls in short skirts and tasseled hats spunked silver batons into the warm air. Bear legs kicked, black boots flashed. The crowd swayed against the ropes and there was laughter and sweating and squinting. The black car reached the heart of the city. Sirens died. Rose of men snapped to attention. Policemen aligned their motorcycles. A baton shimmered high against the sun and came down. A symbol crashed, drums cracked, music blared and there was a movement down the street. The black car rolled along while tapes swept down from the buildings and long swirling ribbons. There was a snow of confetti and from the throats of the people came the first roar. It grew building, building in volume and the city fundered its welcome to the man sitting upon the back of the open car. The small man who tipped his hat and smiled and blinked behind his glasses. Joseph S. Stettison B.A. B.S. M.S. M.D. Ph.D. L.M. Honorable F.R.C. O.G. End of celebrity by James McKimme Jr. The following is a high five moment from high five casino.com. On one, yahoo! Private put down your phone, this is the army! Sorry, high five casino is a social casino, done your phone goes wherever you go. I win three spins, cash, prizes, three den rewards, over twelve hundred games. I won again! Patoon! Present cell phone! High five! High five! Casino! Wind and high five casino! The com! High five casino is a social casino, no purchase necessary. We're permitted to play responsible conditions apply. See website for details. High five casino. Well, it sounds like the tenants hit your rental property sure know how to throw a great party. You just wish they wouldn't throw so many parties. On Tuesdays, until 4 a.m. And if they could pay the rent on time, that would be nice too. Being a landlord can be stressful, but it doesn't have to be. Let renters warehouse handle the hard part of property management for you, like finding quality tenants you can trust. Renters warehouse manages thousands of single family homes and specializes in locating reliable tenants at the right price for your property, usually in a matter of days. And if your tenant defaults for any reason, they'll replace them for free up to 18 months under their tenant warranty program. From rent collection to maintenance coordination, their best in class property management professionals do it all. All for one flat monthly fee. Get a free rental price analysis at renterswarehouse.com to find out how much your home can rent for. That's renterswarehouse.com. Or call 303-974-9444 to speak to a rent estate advisor today. (upbeat music) (upbeat music)