(written in 2001 as a writing exercise)
It was Thursday. As good a day as any. The sun shined brightly confirming the tranquility of the day. A gentle breeze danced across the tiny town of Ambiguous.
Jasper stood at the foot of Main Street surveying his kingdom. It was a good town. A sturdy town. Solid citizens.
Jasper let out a yawn and stretched to the cloudless sky. The sun glinted off the very official-looking badge adorning his breast pocket. Ever since childhood; hooked on Saturday spaghetti westerns, Jasper had wanted this to be his life’s work. His town.
Dreams come true and here he was. It felt good. Damn good. This was his town. Nothing happened here that he didn’t know about. Nothing happened here without his say so.
Jasper started out on his rounds. He walked straight down the center of Main Street following the path his boots have beaten from days, weeks, months, years of repetition. Every day, always the same. Just the way Jasper liked it.
Fourteen steps in and a turn to the right. The Jenkins’ in their quaint pale-blue cottage smiled blankly out at him in a perpetual wave.
Twenty-two steps more and a quick nod to the left towards Jonesy’s Barber Shoppe. The shop was filled to gusset-busting with all the usual faces. Jasper never quite got the whole “let’s hang out at the barber shop” thing. He guessed they just didn’t have anything better to do.
“Storm’s coming,” shouted Jasper over the din of silence. Jonesy’s wink said all it needed to.
Seven more steps and a quick step to the left around lil’ Jenny Jamison. Such a cutie.
“Looking as lovely as ever, Miss jenny,” said Jasper with a tip of the cap. Just because you’re King, doesn’t mean you can’t be polite. “Storm’s coming,” Jasper continued. “Good to see you brought the ‘brella out.”
Jasper continued his rounds. Ten steps; turn right. A peek into Jolly Joes. Twelve steps; turn left, a wink and a wave at old Mrs. Jax and her cat.
Quiet, peaceful. Sameness. Just the way Jasper liked it.
The Jumper family was just ahead. They were crossing Main Street on their daily sojourn to the malt shoppe.
“Storm’s coming,” said Jasper.
Jasper made his way to the end of Main Street. A creaky open shed leaned so far to the left it defied gravity. The wind had picked up and the shed groaned and wobbled precariously.
Jasper stepped inside the shed. A gust of wind blew harder. Perfect. What kind of storm would it be without a little wind to kick things up a bit.
Jasper took a deep breath. He loved this part. He loved this job. This life. King of his domain. How completely perfect.
He started to prime the pump. Pipes groaned with the building pressure, shattering the desolate quiet of Ambiguous.
Another gust of wind. A slap of earth.
Jasper twitched. He turned around slowly, the smile vanishing from his face in an instant. It was those damn Jumper twins. Always trouble, them twins. Something just not right about them. Something a little off-kilter. Out of balance. Jasper sneered. He’d have to fix that.
He walked purposefully over to the prone Jumper twins. Jasper bent at the knee and picked up the smiling cardboard cutouts. He placed them back in their stand.
“Storm’s coming, boys. Hunker down now.”
Jasper dusted off his hands and walked back to the shed. The pump primed, Jasper turned on the sprinkler.
The rain washed the dust from his cracked face as he looked heavenward.
“Yep,” said Jasper. “Good day for a storm, indeed.”
