The Stairs, Chapter 25
Indignity Vol. 6, No. 39
THE STAIRS
© Tom Scocca, 2025
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, and events is entirely coincidental, with the exception of the events in Chapters One and Two, which happened more or less as written, on the line between Cambridge and Somerville, Massachusetts, on Memorial Day weekend in 1999.
25.
Dinner was pizza again. That was fine with Theo and Maxine and me, although I couldn't help wondering how many days we'd be able to repeat it. We separated the clam slices from the sausage ones and took the food into the bedroom again.
The Marble Electro-Power Company, Maxine was telling us, had long ago built Shinter's an extra supply line for the Electrical Yuletide Garden. "The Yuletide Garden was originally as much an advertisement for electricity as it was for Shinter's," she said. "So they wired it up to make sure it could handle the strain."
Pythia was eating an apple on the windowsill. Milton was eating one too, a little furtively, on the floor with a suitcase partly sheltering him from Pythia's view. She'd interrogated him when we got back from the stables, to make sure he hadn't gone anywhere or done anything. He swore he had only been in the apartment.
"Can't trust these ones from the machine crew," Pythia said. "They've been trained to have goals."
"We're supposed to have goals in school," Theo said.
"Not as a substitute for principles," Pythia replied.
"We have a principal, too," Theo said.
Now Pythia was eyeing the pizza. "Is that sausage?" she said.
"I thought you were an herbivore," I said.
"There's no such thing as an herbivore," she said. "Only an omnivore that lacks imagination."
"Wouldn't you rather have an acorn?" Maxine said.
"Careful, we don't have that many," I said.
"Don't we?" Maxine said. She set down her paper plate on the floor and got up. "Let's see." She stepped over my legs and reached for the door to the stairs.
I scrambled up. "Hang on," I said. "We know they're not there. Remember?"
She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "We know they weren't there last time. In the morning. That doesn't mean they're not there now, on this extra July 1, in the evening."
"But that was before this," I said. "Wasn't it?"
"Maybe not," she said. She turned the doorknob. "Well," she said.
I looked over her shoulder at the orange-lit floor of the stairwell. The box was there again. It was the same box—I could see the broken tape where we'd opened it before.
Before I could think of what else to say, Maxine had scooped it up. "Let's see what happens if we keep it, this time," she said. She stepped back and closed the door again. The box rattled a little as she turned around. Both squirrels were staring at it, with only their nostrils moving.
"Wow," said Pythia
"Oh, boy," said Milton.
Pythia turned her head sharply. "What do you mean, 'Oh, boy'?"
"You said 'Wow,'" Milton said. "What's the difference?"
"'Wow' means Wow, that's a lot of acorns," Pythia said. "What does 'Oh, boy' mean? Oh, boy, what?"
"Why doesn't it mean Oh, boy, that's a lot of acorns?" Theo asked.
"Yeah," Milton said. "Why not?"
"Sure," said Pythia. "Fine. Maybe it does. Maybe it had nothing to do with the act of taking the acorns. Which may have interrupted the delivery of the acorns to their intended recipient. By whom this creature is employed."
"I am an independent contractor!" Milton said.
"Dependent on getting paid with these," she said. "Please don't raise your voice at me. Or use your voice, for that matter. We'll surely figure it out soon enough. What you did or didn't mean.
"Now," Pythia said, "why don't we open that box and see if they're as fresh as they smell? And you can make some plans."
Find previous chapters of The Stairs here.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, April 27, 2026
★★★★ The morning sun shone down on the computer's dark finish until the fan inside was roaring. The sky was a gem-deep blue and the treetops were polished jade. Flies on the sidewalk were little lumps of iridescent metal. The grass inside the Park gate was deep and fluffy. The air was a little chilly after the sun moved off the balcony, but the sky stayed blue and continued that way until there was a faint touch of pink in the west. A brilliant gibbous moon shone down, as neatly and definitely detailed as the light fixtures in the windows below it or the gently ridged dogwood leaves just out of reach. Robins trilled and whistled in the advancing dusk, spilling nectar sounds from worm-fed throats. A scrap of human song, the voice big but distant, sounded along with them.
New York City, April 28, 2026
★★★ The sky had started going white but the loss of the blue evened out the temperature between sun and shade. The white turned so gray it was time to check the forecast for rain, but none was coming and the clouds, thick as they were, stayed clear of the ultratalls. The inventory of warm-weather and cold-weather socks was hopelessly jumbled. The sleeves of a light jacket felt too warm and the body too cold, or maybe it was the other way around, or maybe the socks were too warm and nothing else could feel right. The light was as easy as the temperature was difficult. Teens bickered in an otherwise unoccupied curbside dining space.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
Here is the Indignity Morning Podcast archive!
TOM SCOCCA
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS for the assembly of a sandwich selected from Conservation Recipes, compiled by The Mobilized Women's Organizations of Berkeley, California, published in 1918 and available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
SANDWICHES
Mrs. R. H. Wetmore, Editor.
Successful sandwich making requires that the bread should be at least twenty-four hours old and be cut in thin slices. Care should be taken to cover the sandwiches as soon as made, with waxed paper. Do not trim off the crusts.
Sandwiches that are left over are delicious when fried or toasted.
COTTAGE CHEESE SANDWICHES
Bread.
Cottage cheese.
Pimientos.
Spread a layer of cottage cheese on any kind of bread, put strips of pimiento on top of the cheese and place half of a walnut in the center of each. Mrs. C. Bacon.
If you are inspired to prepare a sandwich inspired by our continued offerings, be sure to send along a description of your experience and a photo or three to us here: indignity@indignity.net.
SELF-SERVING SELF-PROMOTION DEP'T.
