Welcome to Summer Grasses

Summer Grasses is the home of the stories of Charlie Close.

My stories are fun, serious without taking themselves too seriously, and thoughtful without being obscure. If you read to laugh or cry and find out what happens next, then you've come to the right place.

Come read a story. The latest are shown below, and the entire library of stories is available through the menus. Many of these stories also come in audio podcasts, and I invite you to get the podcast, or listen to individual episodes. I think you'll enjoy them.

Charlie

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New Stories

Earth Mother
Francine didn't answer. She looked at the application lying on the counter. "Brent R.? Do you have a last name, Brent R.?"

"Yes," said Brent, who would have told it to her if she had asked.

"Is this your first job? You haven't listed any experience."

"Uh, no. I haven't finished the application yet."

Francine looked at Stella. "You hired him before he even finished the application?"

Stella did not answer, but pointed to the stacks of boxed T-shirts. She did not say anything about the pen he pulled out of her nose.

"Well," said Francine. She looked up into Brent's eyes. He blinked.

She turned to Stella. "If you do that again I'm going to kick your ass."

"Thanks," said Stella.

Francine turned back to Brent. "Welcome to Reali-Tee," and reached out to shake Brent's hand.

Burning Embers (Listen...)
Kathy is the first and best editor of all my stories. As soon as I write something, I print it out and set it on the end table next to where she sits.

And then I wait.

But I do not wait in silence. I will say something like, "I wrote a story for you to look at."

And then, a few minutes or a few hours later I will say, "Did you have a chance to look at that story? Just asking."

And then a little after that I say, "How's that story coming? No worries. Just wondering."

One time Kathy asked, "Does it have me in it? Because if it has me in it, and you're telling everyone what a hag I am, then no, I haven't read it..."

Love and Hug Therapy (Listen...)
There is, however, more than one way to comfort a friend in need. There's the listening and helping way, like what Kathy does, and then there's my way, what I think of as love and hug therapy. I give Kathy a heapin' spoonful of it whenever the world gets her down...

Names of Saints (Listen...)
John watched and fumed and squirmed, and at last he reached for the only thing left he could think of to get Aubrey to leave him alone. "I know something about her you don't know."

Aubrey pulled his lips back from his fist and squinted at John. "What?" he said.

"I know her name," said John...

ED (Listen...)
When I saw that ED could be connected to heart disease and diabetes, I knew ED was now sitting at the grownup's table and a new day had dawned. I asked myself, what else could cause ED? Surely there's more...

ED was featured in a recent blog carnival. Click to see a review.

Valentine's Day Surprise (Listen...)
Being an object lesson is not as easy as it looks. It means that now that I've confessed my sins and repented of them, and led the congregation of men in the singing of hymns to take better care of our wives, I had damn well better not commit the sins again.

Which is why I was on the Internet on February 8th to order flowers for Kathy for Valentine's Day. There was no way I could allow myself to forget. And, even though I was only doing the right thing, on time, like any responsible adult would do, I still felt a little proud of myself...

After You (Listen...)
"You could write them a note."

"Have you tried to read my handwriting? If it's bad now, just picture it when I'm old."

"I don't have to imagine it. Remember I met you by writing letters? I could barely read them. I must have been desperate." She sighed, "'Well, if he's a man and he can lick a stamp, who cares what he says.'"

"That's so sweet! And I said, 'I don't care if she lives eight states over and runs the vacuum cleaner four times a day, she's the one for me.' "

"Speaking of cleaning," she began...

"Oh, God," I said. Cleaning again...

Ladybug Kill, Kill, Kill (Listen...)
Part of it is that killing things makes me uneasy, like it's not quite good for my soul. Did I mention that I've written poems about bugs, little haiku poems? I have. Like this one.

windows thrown open
the ant who crosses
the kitchen floor

Do you suppose that the next thing I did was cock back my boot and give that ant what it deserved for coming into my kitchen?...

Trampoline (Listen...)
Cinnamon continued to bounce on the trampoline and did not answer.

"Cinnamon," said her father, this time with more bass in his tone.

And this time Cinnamon answered. "No!" she said, and she jumped higher and pulled her knees up further with each jump as if to emphasize that she was still jumping...

Stubborn (Listen...)
Going into the ninth round, Rodriguez's superior strength started to take its toll. Calderon's footwork, which had started out fast, slowed down, and Rodriguez, who shook off dozens of jabs to the head, circled Calderon and tried to work him into the corner for what the announcer called "some home cookin'". It looked like it was only a matter of time before Rodriguez found the corner and dinner was served.

Randall Senior loved it, like he loved watching a boa constrictor eat a rabbit, one slow, steady gulp at a time. His eyes were fixed to the television, and it held him as if he too were a rabbit being swallowed deep into it.

Randall was so absorbed that he did not look out the window, where, if he had looked, he would have seen Randall Junior walking from the garage back to the stump with a shovel over his bare shoulder...