Characters...

I was watching a man give a presentation today at work, and it was very interesting. He was a great speaker, and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to what he had to say, but I couldn't help but picture him in a caricature image. Just watching him and a couple of other people today I felt inspired to write a story and use their interesting characteristics for the players. Please excuse the verb tense changes...



It was a typical October morning, and old Tuck was up early as usual. His real name was Thomas, but most people who met him understood that such a formal name didn't belong to this bloke. No, even such an ordinary moniker like Tom wouldn't be fitting either. Somehow, along the way, someone referred to him as Tuck, and no one seemed to know him as anything else thereafter.

Tuck was known as a thinker. He didn't say much, mostly because he just had nothing to say. When he did speak, it always came out slowly and with much thought. It seemed that Tuck put thought into pretty much everything he did. Now and then, though, something would really puzzle him. He doesn't give up when it comes to puzzles, so he spends some good time thinking. Lots of people around town like to find things that will make Tuck think. In fact, some of the neighborhood's ne'erdowells sometimes make a game out of it, as if to see who can make Tuck think the longest about a particular subject or question. But most people are just curious as to what's going on inside the old man's head. They're especially curious as to what he thinks about on his pensive, serious morning walks.

This particular day, Tuck had gone for one of his morning walk and found himself at the gas station-turned-coffeeshop. It had become a routine for Tuck, especially on such cheerfully brisk mornings as these. The group of regulars was already there discussing what topic might Tuck enjoy pondering today. The whole crowd was there. Miss Polly, the ever-aging and shrinking librarian who can't help but walk in a waddle now and then, Dr. Blaystone, a large man who's only apparent problem is holding his monacle in place, Jimmy Benz, a bit young for this group of regulars but the group accepts him nevertheless, and Rodge Philtzer, a retired farmer who stutters now and then but some think that Miss Polly fancies him just the same. I guess most wouldn't call this bunch a crowd, but in small towns such as these the terms are a bit more vague.

Anyway, they had just settled on a question for Tuck as he stepped inside. Miss Polly was so anxious to hear his response that she had to focus her attention on Jimmy's new shoes in order to keep from blurting the question out of turn. The five began their usual chit-chat, starting with the pleasant weather we've been having and the particulars of the new family on the west end of town. Eventually, the chatter natually died down, and the four looked at each other somewhat expectantly as if to choose the day's proposer with their eyes. After a moment of this, Miss Polly couldn't handle it.

"Mr. Tuck," she said as if sighing, "we were just wondering...What is it that you think about when you go out walking in the mornings?"

Tuck slowly allowed his eyes to widen slightly. He had never had such a direct question from the group before. Sure, he knew that he spent a lot of time just thinking. And he knew that the others wondered about him sometimes. And he even knew that they occasionally tried to give him a difficult thought to process. But never before had they asked such a personal question.

He gradually lowered his eyes to the ground as he began to think about his response. At first, Miss Polly wondered if she had made a mistake in asking her question. But, she really did want to know. The others did too.

To their surprise, Tuck lifted his head a moment later. Immediatly the others locked their gaze to his face. Normally, the group would sit in silence and enjoy their coffee for a good while as they waited for his answer. He even had a particular stance for his thinking time. He'd lean to one side, often close his eyes, and rest his hand in his face.

This time, Tuck had the stance. He had his first two fingers pressed in the curves that his aging cheek created and wrapped the rest of the fingers of his left hand around his mouth. He had that, but this time he was already ready to answer!

"Well..." he said more carefully than before. " When I'm out walking in the morning, I do think of a lot of things."

The group got increasingly excited. To them, his thoughts were worth more than their own. He spent so much time thinking so those thoughts must be worth gold! What are the deep, meaningful things that he must pursue in his old, wise mind?

"Yes, I do think of a lot of things....but most of the time, I'm just trying not to step on the cracks."

For some reason, Miss Polly wasn't quite satisfied with this answer. But, she smiled and thanked Tuck for his prompt reply. The group got back to their discussions about last night's baseball game and the status of the Mayor's wife's pregnancy. But Miss Polly and Rodge stepped out of the gas station-turned-coffeeshop a bit early that morning. Tuck overheard Miss Polly mumble something about not being late to her water aerobics class...at least he thought so anyway.