Going to try posting a few of my more recent works here this afternoon. Been posting these to the TSA list for a while, so that's why they haven't shown up here for a while.
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Roger was a chimney sweep. It wasn’t by choice; there simply weren’t any jobs available that he could find. Living as he did behind a large community of far richer neighbors, he had been able to take on the task of sweeping their chimneys. There was work for him all year; chimney sweeping had become one of those fads among the richer populous, where even those who didn’t need the service would pay for it simply to show off the fact that they could afford it. The general upshot of it all was that he had work, even in the summers when there was no good reason to use a fireplace anyway.
Since it was winter, Roger didn’t have to worry about finding all of the little things he could do in order to stretch out his available work time at each house. What it did mean was that he did his best to stay indoors at all times. Since he was independent, he had to keep his prices low so that people would hire him, and that, combined with fewer sweeps available to him, meant that he had not been able to prepare for winter around the additional costs of keeping his apartment paid for and warmed.
Ice was cracking with each step as he carried his supplies down the road. Professionals had vans for their supplies; he just had to sling them over his shoulder and hope for the best. He sighed, adjusting one of his earphones as it threatened to slip out. That he had an MP3 player and working headphones was more testament to the fact that he still had friends than to him having money to spend. That his favorite song on the music player was “Chim Chim Cher-ee” from Mary Poppins was simply testimony to the survival of his sense of humor.
He often sang along with the music when he was alone, and that was the situation he found himself in at this point, walking briskly to keep some warmth in his bones. He contemplated as he sang along quietly. He certainly felt lucky to have a job at all, but he was hardly as lucky as could be. If he were that lucky, he would have a nice house, warmer clothes, no bills to pay off…
Roger sighed. Thoughts like that were poison to him. He was grateful just to have a job, but sometimes it was just hard to truly feel lucky when he worked most of his waking hours just to earn enough money to keep the creditors away.
“Sweepin’s not as lucky as it’s cut out to be, chum?”
Roger glanced to the side and saw a man that looked like he could have been straight out of Mary Poppins. Black hair was tangled in a massive heap atop his head, and he ran blackened fingers through the already-greasy mass, which only added to the original problem. All visible skin was black with soot, which produced the comical effect of making his teeth stand out almost unnaturally against his face. He carried all the tools for the trade, several years too old as were Roger’s own, but his carefree smile set him apart from the younger man.
“It’s lucky enough.” Roger wasn’t certain what had tipped the man off to his inner ponderings, but he supposed that he might have noticed when Roger tripped slightly on the lines about being lucky. “I’m lucky just to have this job, truth be told.”
“Ah, but a sweep is as lucky as lucky can be, am I right? And you’re certainly not that lucky right now. If you were, nothing could keep you down, no bills, no cold; you’d be bouncing about, having a lark with life!”
The man’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Roger found that he was beginning to smile with the man. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, there’s not much I can do to get luckier here. I just do my job, hope that somebody passes an extra twenty my way.”
“Well, you can think that, but there are ways of improving your luck.” The man’s smile widened; oddly, where Roger would usually feel uncomfortable with a stranger speaking so freely with him, this man made him feel comfortable.
“Well, if there’s a way to get better luck I wouldn’t mind trying it out,” Roger said. “I haven’t found it yet, though.”
“Ah, you haven’t been looking hard enough then! There’s horse shoes, four-leaf clovers…” He paused and grinned broadly. “Rabbit’s feet?”
As he made the last suggestion, he gestured in Roger’s direction. He suddenly felt a pinching pressure on his toes inside his right shoe. He stumbled back a little bit, and as he watched with wide eyes, the shoe came apart at the seams, padding and leather alike tearing free as, impossibly, the clawed toes of a rabbit emerged from within his shoe! He stumbled again as the same pain struck his left foot, and soon he was standing on a pair of matching, white-furred paws rather than his feet!
Roger would have tried to demand an explanation from the mysterious stranger, except for the fact that he felt pins and needles running up his legs from his feet. It started slowly, but after a few moments it was spreading like wildfire. Even had Roger been brave enough to investigate, he would not have been quick enough to see anything before it reached his arms and his neck at the same time. He watched his hands as they were covered in white fur in a matter of seconds, astonished as soft pads grew on his palms and short white claws poked out from his fingertips. He was still staring at his altered hands when one of his ears, lengthening quickly as it was coating in light gray fur, bobbed down and dipped into Roger’s field of vision. He didn’t even realize what it was until he grabbed it in one of his altered hands. He flinched, then chuckled a little bit, sending his new whiskers bobbing.
He explored the changed to his face briefly, poking and prodding gently as he was no longer certain of where everything was. He found his nose a little further away than usual, and now mostly covered in fur. He followed his now-cleft lip and found that his mouth had changed a good bit, including a pair of larger teeth. He chuckled again, marveling at the novelty of the change.
Looking down, he could see that his clothing was bigger on him than it had been before, but that was also quickly changed as everything adjusted to his new form. This oddly included his ruined shoes, which changed to strips of cloth that tied about the unpadded portions of his new paws. The clothing was no thicker than before, but the additional insulation provided by his fur made his feel quite cozy even in the cold of winter.
Roger looked back at the stranger, who was still smiling brightly at him. “There!” the man said before Roger could say a thing. “Now you’re walking on two perfectly good lucky paws! A sweep is as lucky as lucky can be, and there’s not a sweep out there that could be luckier than a chimney-sweeping rabbit!”
Roger stood there for a few moments, trying to think of anything to say. He felt almost giddy, and bursting with energy. And, come to think of it, he did feel lucky. Even his earphones had found a way to adjust to his change, and he laughed outright as he started the music up again. He sang along with Dick van Dyke, not caring whether anyone else heard. Since his only company was his fellow sweep, he needn’t have worried.
Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey
Chim chim cher-ee!
A sweep is as lucky, as lucky can be
Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey
Chim chim cher-oo!
Good luck will rub off when I shakes 'ands with you…
As he sang these lines he hopped up to the other man and offered a handshake, which was readily accepted. Apparently the lyrics were accurate; as the two shook hands, the still-human sweep’s hand began to alter, growing white fur (though choked with black still) and claws. By the time the two of them hopped off, still merrily singing the chorus, both of them were hopping about on a pair of good luck charms.
They had to part ways to get to their next destinations, but Roger still felt quite happy. He bounced quite literally up the stairs to the house and knocked energetically on the door, appropriately to the beat of the music. A tall man dressed in far better clothing than Roger owned stood on the other side, eyes growing wide as he looked down to find the interloper.
“Sweep your chim chim-i-neys, gov’ner?”
