The Minotaur Vase by Ricky LaVaughn
“Come on Jerry, you can do this,” I say to myself. Picking a birthday card for your wife shouldn’t be so hard. Is her favorite color yellow or purple?
Light thirties jazz streams from the overhead speakers. The three other customers don’t realize it, but I do. A minor in music while at college, keeps my ears tuned to all melodies. Any sounds, jingles, beats or tunes, tingle my ears to make sense of it. I can tell you from a few bars the era of the song, title, and usually the artist. Yet here I stand in front of the sappy love birthday cards and can’t even remember if Brenda like’s purple or yellow. Well at least I remembered that she likes mythological vases. She was clear on that and wants a new one for her office.
Brenda is a Greek and Roman Mythology professor so her office is decorated with a variety of ancient artifacts. Granted the one I will get her isn’t old but will fit her collection. It’s a red and black 23-inch tall vase, with some guy fighting a bull. I believe the bull is a Minotaur, or at least that’s what the clerk told me over the phone. I’ll get the vase once I choose a card. Should have gone there first, they’re going to close in ten minutes. There’s a familiar ring at the door but I don’t look up until I hear…
“Everybody on the ground now,” a man yells from the front.
I pause, in disbelief. Please tell me we’re not being robbed. I only have ten minutes. It has to be a joke, it just has to be. Purple, Brenda likes purple. It means royalty or something.
“That means you sir.” I look over and a man with a gun is staring right at me. I look at him, shiver, and then look past him. The store is going to close. “Are you deaf,” he yells.
“No,” I respond. “But I have to get a vase for my wife across the street. Let me go, I’ll get the vase, then come right back, promise.” Someone behind is begging me to get down in fear that the man will start shooting everyone. He grabs my shirt and gives me to the count of three to get down. I want to but all I can think about is that vase.
“Three,” he exclaims.
An errant car alarm wakes me out of my slumber. I look around confuse and realize it was a dream. I was dreaming in the parking lot of the shopping center that held the card and vase stores. It’s been a long week and haven’t slept much. I look over at the card store then the vase. I get out of the car and know what I need to do. A purple card can be gotten from anywhere, but a vase waits for no one.
