Darcy D

“Dr. Bar David?”
A young man with black eyes and curly hair came toward him. Carrying a digital recorder. He looked familiar.
“Richard Falco, North Richardson High. I took algebra and Calc I from you.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Good to see you.”
“I’m now reporting for Anchor Media. Just started a couple of months ago.”
David started walking away. “Good for you. What a good course of action.”
“Listen, I need to get a couple of quotes anyway. I wonder if—Oh, wait! I’m so sorry. You were at the North Richardson school shooting, five years ago.”
David nodded. And began to panic.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” the stupid student asked. “Protesting gun laws?”
“I really need to be going, now. Good luck with your interviews.” Hyperventilating.
Richard grabbed David’s shoulder. “But Dr. Bar David. Your story, tragic as it is, ends up being the reason for this whole public gun melting, right? A few words from you about—”
David lost it. “Listen! My whole life changed that day. When that meshugener killed my entire family, my wife and my son, in an instant! With a gun he purchased the week before!” David grabbed the kid’s throat. “I do not want to talk about it. Don’t mention me in your article. I will sue you! Leave me alone.”
Richard swallowed and nodded, fast. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry—”
David started shouting, “The bullets! The bullets! The bullets!”
His head pounded. His ears roared.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One

“What else can it predict?”
Now the other jocks encircled her like a bullseye.
“Any event with data,” Holly said and really felt the need to leave. This was a set-up.
Big Bob grinned. “Like when I’ll get a date?”
Holly’s smile slid across her face. “Low probability events are hard to forecast.”
“Huh?”
Josh punched his shoulder. “She means, you are not likely to get a date.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One

“David turned on the TV and sat on the couch. He could grade the Calc I homework but that always depressed him. It would almost put him in mourning, sitting Shiva, but it had to be done.
He would get up early in the morning and do it. He chuckled.
The TV had a stupid dog commercial. Cocker Spaniel mix. Same kind of mutt Miriam brought into their marriage. She was a dog person. Named it Lucky.
Lucky died of poisoning while David was at home one afternoon. Somehow the dog had gotten into Clorox. Not so lucky.
That had been their only fight. David did not want to get another dog. Claimed it would remind him of Lucky.
When David was little, about eight or nine years old, he had learned Clorox would kill a dog. Their neighbor had a German shepherd. Sol would throw rocks at it when they walked to school.
One day the dog got out and bit Sol, and if the neighbors had not stopped it, the dog may have mauled Sol to death. The dog’s name was Roxx, short for Roxanne. It was found dead a couple of days later. Poisoned.
David was not a dog person.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One

“God’s love sweeps away everything before it. It sweeps away your past, your pain, your fears, your regrets.”
― Gregory Dickow, Soul Cure: How to Heal Your Pain and Discover Your Purpose