The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 152: “It varies. Any message you want me to convey?” Tucker asked.
“It varies. Any message you want me to convey?” Tucker asked.
Having met Morris only a few times, James shrugged. “Not really. Speedy recovery maybe?”
Tucker nodded. Having asked the only question he could think of, he and Tucker fell into silence as they perused the shelves. Determined to make this his last chaperoned shopping excursion for a while, James made certain to take his cart down every aisle. Also having grown sick of frozen meals, James was on the lookout for anything he thought he might be able to prepare.
He added peanut butter and strawberry jam to his cart thinking that he could at least make a non cold cut sandwich for variation. He found an entire array of boxed meals on the shelf all of which required that he only add one or two items. Some of the items involved chicken, and while he thought he might test one with the canned chicken, he wasn’t confident in his ability to actually cook chicken properly and steered more towards the beef.
‘People eat tartare without getting sick,’ he rationed figuring he was on less deadly ground than with the raw chicken. Several types of boxes went into his cart and when they reached the meat counter, he added a couple of packages of ground beef. In one of the cases he saw bags of precooked shrimp and thought he might be capable of defrosting them and adding them to any left over pasta he might have in order to extend the use of the jars. He also added frozen raviolis with the same idea in mind.
By the time they wheeled the cart to check out, James thought he not only had enough food for the week, but that if the easy to make food worked out as easily as it claimed to, he might be able to feed himself for a month. He was feeling quite pleased with himself as he went through the check out line and paid for his groceries.
Tucker stayed well away from the register as he paid and then joined him as they left the building. James thought it looked a little odd that he wasn’t buying anything, but figured Tucker knew his business.
As they wheeled the cart back to the car, James looked his agent over. Tucker was surreptitiously scanning the parking lot as they walked. James felt an odd line of tension between his shoulder blades and fought the sudden urge to hunch over.
“Can I talk to you or should I leave you be,” James asked.
“You can talk,” Tucker replied. “It’d look more natural if you did.”
James shrugged. “Do you know of any continuing education classes around here? Maybe things I could do after work?”
“Getting bored already?” Tucker asked. The edge of his mouth quirked up in amusement.
“Hardly,” James replied. “I’m looking for an excuse to get out of happy hour. I figure the move is good for this week, but a few weeks of plans might not go amiss.”
“I would have suggested skipping this week,” Tucker said. “Especially seeing as how you are supposed to be dead. I doubt anyone will check but we don’t know how he ended up at the sports bar to begin with.” Tucker nodded his approval. “I’ll get you a list.”
Ten til Midnight 