Moralize’s Poems, Short Stories, and More

Just for fun, I wrote this really short story about a pair of “expert” thieves.

Even at night, the cars in the showroom of the car dealership sparkled, catching light from the streetlights outside, accenting smooth curves and chrome detailing.

The piece de resistance was clear–a silver and gray sports car in the center of the spotless marble floor, raised slightly on a low dais. The vehicle was sleek and low to the ground. It’s tires alone could wreak havoc on a small family’s savings. One look could tell you that this gleaming machine–on sale–would bring in a six figure amount.

It was this beauty that held the attention of Carla and Joe, who were in this veritable museum of fancy cars way after closing time.

“That the one?” Carla asked Joe, not even taking her eyes off the sculpted metal and fiberglass before her.

“Yeah,” Joe said. He checked his watch, calculating how much time they’d already spent in the dealership. “Time’s wasting. I knocked out the security and got us inside. It’s your turn, sweet cheeks.”

Carla shot him a piercing glare. “The only cheeks you better be talking about are on my face,” she warned. She got inside the manager’s office, helped by Joe, who picked the lock for her. Carla used a heavy glass paperweight on the desk inside the office and smashed open a metal box on the wall holding the keys to all the cars. In this time, Joe had gone back to the car and emptied a few gallons of gas into the car so they could get several miles away before worrying about refueling. IF they made it all the way to the garage without having the stop for gas, they’d be lucky.

Joe tossed the gas can aside like a piece of trash. The red plastic can bounced and skated across the slick floor before slowing to a stop and leaving an oily streak in its wake.

“Think it’s safe to leave that here?” Carla asked him, doubtful.

Joe held up with leather gloved hands. “Don’t worry. This isn’t my first–”

Alarms rang, shrill and deafening in the car dealership. Joe looked around frantically before looking at Carla accusingly. “You tripped something! In the office!”

“Or you did when you got us in here.”

“Why are they ringing now then?”

“Oh who cares? Get in the car!”

Joe ran to the opposite side of the car, smashing his crow bar into the huge floor-to-ceiling glass window in front of the car as he went.

“Your driving skills better be worth splitting the fee with you,” he called.

Carla was in the driver’s seat a second later. “As long as it’s not–” Carla stopped, staring at the center console between the two front seats.

“What? What?! We’ve gotta get going!”

“I don’t do stick.”

“Get over it and drive!”

“I mean I can’t. I never learned!”

“What? You’re the getaway driver and you can’t even drive stick?!”

“Hey, lookie here mister. Most cars these days are automatic anyway.”

“Alright. Put your foot on the clutch–no, don’t slam on it!” He sighed in frustration, getting out of the passenger’s seat. He opened the driver’s door and pulled Carla out by the arm. “I’ll drive.”

Another shrill sound rent the air and combined discordantly with the alarm of the store. Police were on their way.

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Traveling for days on end in the forest, hungry, dog-tired, and probably slightly mad, I parted the last branches in my way and came upon a strange sight. There before me, hidden for years in this vast jungle, was an ancient palace. It was probably of Mayan descent, but it had the qualities of Egyptian pyramids and the intricacy of Incan monuments. There was even a corporate edge to the place. It was a frightening sight after so long traveling in this jungle, but the entrance way would no doubt be cooler than where I was standing now.
I entered a passageway that receded into the depths of the structure. As soon as I walked in, the entrance behind me closed. “Great,” I thought, “One more thing to add to ‘Why My Vacation to Central America Sucked’.”

Strangely enough, the path ahead wasn’t as dark as I expected. I know it’s cliché to say it, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Having no better choice, I continued on down the corridor. The corridor opened into a large cavernous room. There was nothing here; bare walls, bare stone floors. There wasn’t an exit either.

“Great,” I said out loud. “Just perfect.”

Answer the question and you may leave, said an ethereal voice.
I was probably completely insane by this point, so I asked, “What’s the question?”

What is progress?

“Well, I don‘t know,” I said. “Can we try an easier question?”

You must answer this question in order to move on.

Huh. It was the classic Answer-the-Sphinx’s-question deal. Hopefully in this case, I wouldn’t be eaten if I got the question wrong.

I thought to every time I’d ever heard the word progress. Politicians threw the word around like a paper airplane, hoping to entice voters while doing nothing towards that progress. Teachers may comment with “You’re making progress,” when a student improves in his or her work. Progress could describe how far a race car had traveled on a track. A loading bar on a website would indicate how far the page has gone until completion.
“Is progress…moving forward?” I tried, using a specifically vague description.

Try again, the voice said patiently. Heck, I guess I’d be incredibly patient too if I were thousands of years old.

I thought again, this time of ProgressiveU, an online site that offered a scholarship for posting “progressive” blog entries. Countless times I had told newbies with nonsensical posts that they were supposed to blog about progress, but then again–What do I know about it? I can’t even answer a simple question, and I’d been on the site for over a year. Surely the answer was in my skull somewhere…

I tried a different tactic. What would life be without progress? There would be no new laws or regulations. We’d still be living in the stone age, clubbing each other whenever our anger took over. There’d be no science or learning. Heck, we might not have even gotten as far as cave men. We’d be animals, caring only for basic survival: reproduction, food, shelter….more reproduction, more food, etc.

“Progress is everything,” I said slowly, turning on the spot and trying to get a look at who I was talking to. “Progress is moving forward, changing for the better, achieving a goal. Progress…hell, progress makes the world go ’round! Progress…is …everything to humans. We crave it, we revel in it. We are amazed by it. Progress is everything.”

Silence. Nothing happened for the longest time, and I was slightly paranoid thinking some half girl/half lion would come to devour me for giving the incorrect answer. But suddenly, there was a change in the air. Wind. I turned and saw that one of the walls had opened up to the outside of the palace. Far in the distance I could see civilization.

I walked out, thinking to myself, “Good thing the question wasn’t about algebraic problems!”

Before I could reach the exit, the hole closed up again.

A train traveling at 55 mph leaves Detroit at 4 am and another train leaves New York at 12 am…

Crap. I’d never get out of this place now.

ProgressiveU.org is a blogging site where students compete for a scholarship by blogging about progressive issues. Check it out sometime.

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The New Student
A literal shout out to Poe’s “The Raven”.

As I wandered weak and weary
Down the hall so bleak and bleary
I come upon a door
Like so many before

I knocked and then I did implore
To the teacher inside this door
“Is this my class of English lore?”
He shook his head, then nothing more

The late bell rang so then I sprang
I saw the class inside the next door, said “Dang”
The next door that I saw
Was government or maybe law

It was getting very late now
And I started to wonder how
I ever could make it to class on time
(heck, I can barely make two things rhyme)

In desperation, I started to shout
“How will I ever figure this out?”
Then there was a sign from above
The beacon of hope, like a dove

The office was the answer
To the secretary, I did ask her
“Where is my first class?
I hope you are the one to ask.”

I said “I’m John White,” she searched my name
She got the info, then began to say
“Don’t feel like a fool,
But did you know this isn’t your school?”

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