The Soccer Ball

He did all the right things.

The soccer ball rolled into the street and all traffic stopped.

Everyone old enough to drive knows what a ball rolling and bouncing into a street means: children at play nearby. It was the unwritten rule of balls and children, as old as the day and just as long. 

Lamar stopped his car and waited. Sooner or later a child would follow. Unfortunately for Lamar, he was running late for an appointment. Any delay and he would surely miss his opportunity to pitch the deal with the only person in town who would fund it. He had waited five months for this opportunity and wasn’t about to miss it over a child playing soccer with his friends.

The ball rolled in front of his car and hit the curb on the other side and then rested there.

“Where are those kids?” Lamar asked through a clenched mouth. “Don’t they know they’re supposed to come running out to get their ball and go back to their game?”

Cars rolled to a stop coming the opposite direction. They too waited.

But no child came.

Lamar stretched his neck, trying to see around the corner from where the ball bounced. He got out and went to the corner. There in the alley was a large truck with the back opened. Inside the truck were boxes of balls being unloaded into a warehouse. One ball had escaped and was the one that crossed the road. A forklift turned fast and the fork punctured three large boxes of balls and dozens dropped to the ground and began rolling down the alley towards Lamar.

Lamar was officially going to be late today, and couldn’t imagine what would actually come out of his mouth to explain his lateness. Whatever it was, it would be a doozy because the truth would be stranger than any fiction he could dream up.