Three Stories

Zac Smith

The Shit

The man stood in line at the cafe. He thought, “I have to take a shit.” The barista asked if she could help him. He thought, “I have to take a shit.” He said, “I’ll have a cortado.” The barista asked what kind of milk he wanted. He thought, “I have to take a shit.” He said, “Whole milk is fine.” He pointed to a cookie and thought, “I have to take a shit.” He said, “How much is a cookie.” She said the cookies were twenty-five dollars. He thought, “I have to take a shit. I have to take a shit so bad.” She said, “Would you like a cookie, too.” He thought, “I have to take a shit so fucking bad.” She said, “Sorry, I meant two twenty-five. The cookies are two twenty-five.” He thought, “I have to shit right now.” He said, “Oh. Okay. I mean, no. No thank you.” The barista asked what kind of milk he wanted. He thought, “I am going to shit my pants.” He said, “Whole milk is fine.” She said, “Oh, I already asked you that. He thought, “I am going to start shitting any second.” The barista tapped something onto an iPad. The man paid for the cortado. The man started to shit, but this was much later, while he was sitting on the toilet, drinking the cortado.

The Other Writer

The writer received a series of long, manic messages from the other writer. The other writer was projecting a lot of heavy baggage onto the writer. The other writer was a good writer but a comedically envious, self-sabotaging, troubled loser. The truth is we are all this way, the writer thought, But some of us have more self-control, while typing an even longer, more unhinged message to send to the other writer. One of them would eventually break into the other’s home some night, and they would both laugh in the naked stupidity of it, together, in the hallway.

The Postal Worker

Douglas applied to be a postal worker. He completed a long questionnaire on the internet. He completed a customer service quiz on the internet. He completed a background check on the internet. He went to a package sorting facility an hour away. He completed a long questionnaire on a piece of paper. He watched a woman copy the answers from his paper onto another piece of paper. He watched the woman type the answers from her paper onto a computer. He left the building. It was illegal to turn left out of the package sorting facility parking lot, toward the highway, so he turned right and drove in a meandering, three mile-long circle through a treeless housing development around the package sorting facility and turned left toward the highway. He listened to National Public Radio while yielding to traffic on the highway. Someone was talking about the message from outer space. The message from outer space seemed bad, the person said, and laughed uncomfortably.