Olives

How many black, pitless olives should you put in a salad?
Most would say it depends on the size of the salad and I would agree. Except I impulsively exceed the olive limit once I start spooning them in. I love olives, leading to an imbalance in my salads. I can sense tomatoes and cucumbers whine about being overlooked. Celery could care less, while peppers have, in my opinion, an unhealthy attraction to olives. It's more a feeling than what I see. Bacon bits are just happy o be included.
I have never eaten olives right out of the can. There are boundaries I won't cross. But I have been known to linger in the olive aisle far too long. Green olives have their place in my diet. But I'm sure they can discern my obsession with their black peers.
I also believe croutons have a competition going with olives to see which of them has greater impact. Unless it's garlic croutons, there is no comparison.
Did you know there are people who toss peanuts into their salad? And you wonder why this country is so divided.

Intricate Work

I dreaded this day. I stared up at the kitchen light fixture. The bulb had burnt out.
I had a replacement and a ladder. What I lacked was confidence. I can do this, I whispered.
I set up the ladder and climbed to the third step, body shaking. I carefully removed the glass cover to reveal the traitorous bulb. I descended and lay the cover on the table, body sweat soaked. Maybe I should take a break. No, I needed to build momentum. I climbed back up and slowly unscrewed the old bulb, caressing it against my chest as I went down. Some might have brought the new bulb up on the previous trip, but I didn't want to press my luck.
I should have stretched out beforehand. My shoulders were tight. I reached up and carefully began screwing. As soon as it was tight, I let out a sigh. I let myself down deliberately. When my feet hit the floor my heart stopped pounding. Safe.
I walked to the wall switch, praying for success. I couldn't go through  the whole process again. It was now or never.
I reached out and flipped the switch.
Thankfully, it burst into light. I sobbed. Now I would have to call the Super to replace the glass cover. Because I know my limitations.

Womb

Eddie felt it growing larger each day on his right side. He went to his doctor who ordered a cat scan. The results were stunning. Eddie had developed a womb. His doctor was over joyed. This is ground breaking he exclaimed. You can have kids. I don't want kids, Eddie protested. Besides, I don't have a uterus.
We have techniques, his doctor said. Anything is possible.
Eddie despaired. He was a freak. No one would come near him. He called his friend Joe, who commiserated. Joe had an extra thyroid gland, which he hid under a turtleneck. Joe always made it about himself.
Eddie stripped and stared at his misshapen body. A child who looked like him. Maybe this was his destiny. Now he needed a new wardrobe.He hugged his bump. Who needs estrogen?

The Wild Card

Our handball team, the Weehawken Wallbangers was undefeated. We had a match with the Miami Smackers, led by Rico Gonzales, who always had something up his sleeve.
As we warmed up I realized tonight would be no different. 60000 fans, full ESPN coverage. And who walks out of their dressing room?
Marco Hernandez. 7'3, with an 8 and a half foot wingspan. His arms reached below his knees. He could cover the whole court without moving.
The Wild Card, signed to a contract hours before.
I threw up inside my mouth.
I prayed he would pull a muscle during stretching. My team looked beaten already.
Suddenly the giant began heaving up his guts. He collapsed, had to be carried off. I was stunned. Someone in the first row caught my eye. My uncle Esquivar, who owned a burrito place nearby. A place Hernandez may well have dined at that day. He smiled and gave me the thumbs up.
Family is so important.

Ben Franklin's Problem

Ben Franklin was frustrated. He just could not harness electricity. Standing in the middle of a field, flying a kite during a lightning storm only got him burned. No one had invented insulation.
Hamilton thought he was nuts. Your reputation is secure, Ben. You're on The Declaration of Independence, a founding father, beloved and respected.
Ben replied, I am not a politician or general. No one will remember me unless I invent something like the electric waffle iron.
Hamilton sighed and walked off. Some people just have to make waves.

Material of Dubious Quality

Boris was a terrible stand up comic, with lousy material. Audiences hissed and booed. He hated being a carpet cleaner. Comedy was his passion.
Then Luanna appeared, offering to write his material in exchange for 10% of all his future earnings. He read her stuff and immediately agreed.
His career took off, leading  to gigs in Vegas and a possible sitcom. Boris decided to break their contract and cut her out.
Luanna smiled and made a phone call to her uncle Carlo. Let's just say Boris is now working on wheelchair humor. After all, a contract is a contract.

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Cary Grant's walk
James Bond holding a drink
Brando's smirk
Morgan Freeman's tone and cadence
Rodney Dangerfield's eyeroll
William F. Buckley's vocabulary
George F. Will's logic
Larry David's excuses
Phillip Marlowe's wardrobe
Steve McQueen's squint
Paul Newman's poses