U-WRITE-IT RESULTS

I thought that this must be a cynical joke. As I walked into the den, I begin to second guess myself. What if I really needed to be running for my life. What if someone is really after me. I begin to sense the creepy feeling of paranoia seep into my whole being. It was suddenly cold and I unaturally begin to turn off all the bright lights and gather any weapons that would protect me if there really was someone after me. There was a dawning of a distant knock at the front door. I swallowed so hard that I could hear my throat recieve the awaiting saliva produced my fear.As I walked to what seemed like forever to the front door I could hear a familiar voice of a close friend. As I opened the door I must have been as pale as a ghost. Her expression and words let me know that she knew I was freaked out. I explained to hear what happened and the lights went out.

"What!" exclaimed her best friend Erica.

Jessica moved over to her bedroom window, and was suprised to see a bright red sports car parked in her driveway. "Erica, there is a car in the driveway," she calmly told her friend.

The two girls rushed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When Jessica opened the front door, she was stunned to see Curtis, her mother's ex-fiancee, who had abused her as a child.

"What do you want?" she sternly asked him.

"Is your mother around? I bought you two a gift, and I was just wondering?"

"No, she's not here, remember, your goons killed her that night."

The caller's voice was cold and still, it sent shivers down her spine, she had never gotten such a call, till now.

He made her feel as if her every move was being watched.

She locked all the doors and closed all the curtains, peeked to make sure no one was outside, to be certain she was alone, to be sure she was the only one watching.

She thought for a second that it was just a prank call, till the ringing began again. Ring, ring She was afraid to answer but curious to whom it might be.

As she pressed the talk button, she asked, "Who is this?" in a trembling voice, there was nothing but silence on the other side of the line, she stayed on the line for a while and she began to hear heavy breathing, she spoke in a scared voice, "Who are you? Leave me alone!" and hung up briskly.

"And?" I wait for the part that's weird.

"First of all, I don't know who it was on the phone."

"I don't think that really matters, does it?" I interrupt, reach for another Ritz.

Cocking her head ever so slightly, she squints at me. "Not so much, except that we don't have a dog."

"Well, that's what you get for answering the phone," I shrug. "Somebody else's problems."

Reaching into the Ritz box, she grabs the last cracker. "Look, we don't have an answering machine. How's Pete going to know who calls if I don't take care it?"

"His problem. He expects way too much from you."

Ooh! I can tell THAT ruffled her feathers, so I add, "Anyway, Pete's such a pirate. You're only a parrot."

"Justice," Eleanor repeated, as if Jessica hadn't annunciated.

"Probably a wrong number, then." Jessica checked caller ID. "Figures private."

Jessica began folding the linen napkins that were still warm from the dryer. She moved her body very deliberately, and allowed her long fingers to smooth and crease the napkins with precision. Had it not been for Eleanor watching her every move, Jessica would have been executing a more hasty accomplishment of this mindless task.

"Justice," Eleanor repeated, once more. "Who does that? Who calls ANYONE and instructs them to prepare for justice?" Eleanor shook her head.

Jessica's mind wandered, a slow recollection pushing its way from the craggy depths of her mind, gaining momentum, the synapses bursting in electrical cacophonies, so much so she could practically visualize purple clouds of activity as the memory disregarded all attempts of suppression. Finally, the geyser:

"Oh my God. It was John."

I chuckle. "That's not weird, that's my brother. Working in produce for more than 20 years, he's always got the inside scoop on that stuff."

We log on to check my email from Sean:

I remember the great spinach recall of 2006, and before that sprouts, and before that Odwalla juice. Americans take everything for granted! Just wash It, and cook the "crap" out of It. Frankly, I wish It would happen to corn, I hate prepping that stuff. Hello, lawsuits galore! Shoppers think I work for the C.D.C, when asking about this situation. I just tell them, too bad they can't make fuel out of tomatoes.

Jessica and I immediately look at one another. The next words out of our mouths match exactly: "Yesss! Our first million!"

"What did he say his name is?" Jill asked.

"Genes."

"Genes? Oh, you mean, Jeans. Yes, he'll meet you at the clothesline 'coz that's where he hangs out."