New Short Story

The Gift of Giving

By Pete Schulte

Richard brought in the mail and met his wife, Ginger, in the kitchen. “Anything good?” she asked.“Looks like something from Barry,” Richard mumbled.

“Barry? Why would he send you anything?”

“Let’s find out,” said Richard as he tore at the envelope.

Richard held up the simple, flowery ‘thank you’ note for Ginger to see. “How nice, and so unexpected from Barry,” she said. “He’s never seemed the type to offer a card.”

Richard’s face grew red. Something was wrong. “This is no ordinary thank you note, Ginger. He’s mocking me.”

“Mocking you? Richard, please. Whatever do you mean?”

“The note reads: Richard, thank you so much for the ball scratcher you gave me for my birthday. I really needed one and it works just fine. Regards, Barry.”

“Well that’s just lovely sentiment,” said Ginger.

“I did not give him a ball scratcher!” snapped Richard.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It was an artifact. What I gave him was an ancient artifact. You hang it in your kitchen. You certainly don’t scratch your balls with it. You see the way he sticks it to me? You see what he’s doing, don’t you?”

“Was that the artifact you bartered for while ankle deep in desert sand?” Ginger asked.

“No, no, no. I did barter for sure, bartered with my life as a matter of fact. But I wasn’t in the desert, I was knee deep in Amazonian mud for this one. How can he be so ungrateful?”

“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding,” said Ginger. “because it looked…”

“I don’t care what it looked like,” said Richard. “It was an artifact, and it’s ancient, and it’s supposed to hang in the kitchen. Why can’t he see that and appreciate what I’ve done for him, this precious gift I’ve given him, nearly costing me my own life in the process?”

“Oh, dear Richard,” Ginger soothed. “My poor dear, Richard. You must talk to Barry. Tell him how it hurts you when he writes such boorish things, so common, so sophomoric. It’s beneath him.”

Ginger held Richard’s drooped head until he was over his petulance. Richard then gathered himself and went into his den. He called Barry. “We need to talk, Barry. Now.”

They met on a park bench somewhere in the neighborhood between their homes. Children played in the distance and clouds wafted above the warm sky. It was a perfect summer evening. “So what did you drag me out here for, Richard?”

“I think you know, Barry.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“You insulted my wife,” said Richard.

“What? Are you crazy? I love Ginger. I would never insult Ginger.”

“She happened to be with me when I opened your so-called thank you note. She saw the way you insulted my gift by referring to it as a ball scratcher. We were both deeply offended.”

“It’s not a ball scratcher, Richard? Then what the hell is it?”

It’s an ancient artifact. I told you that when I gave it to you at your birthday party.”

“I thought you were kidding.”

“Barry, I risked my life for that artifact. I could have been killed.”

“Are you sure you want to go with that story, Richard? Think hard, my friend, think hard…”

“Of course I do. Of course, Barry. I was in the Amazon. I was knee deep in the muck and I did this for you, for my friend of twenty years. I did this for you, Barry.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” stated Barry. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“But I did. Yes Barry, I did. And now let us recall the gift you gave me for my birthday. It was a stainless steel beer stein, fair enough. But please note the inscription: To my friend, Richard, the biggest dick I know.” That’s what you wrote to me. How dare you!”

“But that’s funny. I was just trying to be funny.”

“Okay, mister funny man, let me tell you something: I happen to have a glass cabinet where I keep all my memorable gifts. It’s a locked cabinet, Barry. It’s locked. Perhaps you’ve seen it?”

“Oh, I’ve seen it, Richard, and it’s my ultimate fantasy to break into your house and pick that diary lock you’ve got on that stupid cabinet. I’ll show you.”

“Well, let me tell you something, Barry, your funny beer stein did not make the glass cabinet. No, sir.”

“Oh my God, Richard, I’m mortally wounded by this slight.”

“I’ll tell you where your gift resides, Barry. Oh, I’ll tell you all right. It sits on my desk holding pens and pencils I will no doubt ever use. That‘s all it‘s good for, joker. It will never see a drop of beer or the glass cabinet for that matter. Never ever.”

“Oh, la-di-da. But let me tell you about a gift I received from you, Richard, just five short years ago.”

“Don’t you go there, Barry.”

“I will go there, Richard, I will. At my birthday party, as you well recall, in front of everybody I open a gift from you that’s a vibrator, a sexual device.”

“It was not intended as a sexual device, Barry. You’d been complaining about your neck. You remember your neck? It was a neck massager what I bought for you. I was looking out for my friend.”

“I’m afraid neck massagers aren’t shaped like nine inch missiles. I don’t suppose you’d put something like that in your precious glass cabinet.”

“Look, let’s cool this down a bit,” said Richard. “We’ve been friends twenty years, right? I’ll say I overreacted, okay?”

“Okay, Richard, okay. But one more thing before we go. I’m not sure if you inspected your little artifact as closely as I did. But if you turn it over and look at the bottom it clearly reads: Made in China. So I’m not sure how it got to your Amazon.”

“The Chinese can do anything these days.”

“Also, I know it looks like wood, but it’s definitely plastic, your artifact. I’m guessing you were put out $4.99 for it?”

“I can prove it, Barry. We can take it down to the university lab right now. That artifact is genuine. It should be hanging in your kitchen.”

“I know we can go down to the university, Richard. I know we can, but we’ve gone down this road before and it always leads to your embarrassment. You sure you want to do it?”

“No.” said Richard, rising from his seat. “No, I guess I give in. Looks like you got me, Barry. You win. I’ll go home now.”

Richard started walking away but Barry caught up to him. “Richard, wait up. Wait up. I just want to say one more thing.”

“Go ahead,” he replied sheepishly. “Give me whatever I deserve.”

“No,” said Barry, “let me get this out. I just want to sincerely thank you for the gift I received from you. I’m real sorry I insulted it, whatever it is, and I’ll find a real nice place to hang it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Richard shrugged. “It’s just cheap.”

“Look, we’re friends twenty years, Richard, and I’m not about to let you go. And hey, maybe some day I’ll get something into that glass cabinet. You‘ll see.”

“You just might,” said Richard with a wave. “My friend, you just might.”

The end.