The Hat

Writing "short-short" stories in class and I thought I'd share this  with the no one that reads this (heh heh). Perhaps, one day, either someone will, or it'll get published and really real people will read it...for real. Yea, I know, I'm a big whino, tiny violin, poor me, poor me, yada yada... ;) Anyhow, here it is.

The Hat

“This one goes out to the one I love.”- R.E.M.

Both of them looked into the glass. The twinkling lights made their eyes shimmer. The one with the backwards hat frowned a bit. Neither of them spoke. The other cocked an elbow out across the display case, hair cascading behind as her head rested on her hand. Sleepily staring from her friend to the glass and back again, she yawned half-interested, “See anything ya like?”

The bill of the hat was now pointed up in the air, the back pressed against the forearms that were crossed on the glass. Worried eyes judged all the items. A thinking tongue ran dryly over a lip that bulged from a wad of dip. Shortly after, a bottle was retrieved from the worn out back pocket and used as a spittoon. “Well,” came a gravely reply, then a bit of “huhuhuhs,” to clear the throat. More silence. Just as she was going to say something else, the hat said, uncertainly, “I like them three over there,” indicating to the far left of the case. After waiting a short while and getting no reply, there was a hesitant, “You?”

“Oh yea,” came the laid back answer, “Those are nice. I’m sure she’d like one of those.”

A saleswoman finished with another customer, walked over and asked brightly, “Y’all need some help?” Her blood red lipstick was smudged on her front teeth. She had on an overpowering perfume and her eyes were veined and puffy. As soon as she saw the hat, the dip filled lip, and the water bottle spittoon, her demeanor stiffened slightly.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” the voice, gravel now gone, was heavily accented with a country twang, “I like them three, right over there. Can you tell me what sizes they are and what the prices run?” Eyebrows, ever together. Free hand nervously fiddling with the hat, turning it forward, then backward again.

The saleswoman visibly relaxed a little and her smudged lips smiled again, revealing the stained teeth. She quickly took out all three and went into her sales pitch. After giving what she thought was a winning speech she was surprised to see the obviously disappointed face. The fretful eyebrows glanced from the rings to the face of the longhaired woman.

She looked just as confused, “What’s the problem? They’re nice rings? She’ll love any of them.”

“Oh they’re nice rings. I like em, but the cheaper ones  are too small...and if I get the one that fits, she’ll kill me!” The hat sat back in order to allow slow, but intense, head scratching to take place. “Maybe we should see some more?”

But the “more” weren’t any better. The rest went so high that the hat began to be lifted and dropped with whistles being added here and there for emphasis on a particularly expensive band. In the end it was “she’ll kill me” that was settled on.

The saleswoman handed the longhaired woman a bottle of champagne. Those eyebrows shot up even higher as they watched, “Whasat?”

“It comes with the purchase. It’s our Valentine’s Day Special,” the saleswoman said, smiling, again.

Putting her arm around her compadre, the longhaired woman said, “Well here’s to you dyin! There are many worse ways to go!”

As they walked out of the jewelry shop they vaguely heard the odd looking woman call, “You ladies have a nice day!”