Valentines, Schmalentines! Stories of love, for 10 cents or a postcard

Karl Smith is a biochemistry and biophysics Ph.D candidate at the University. The Pittsburgh native also has an unusual hobby—typing stories (and charging a mere 10 cents) for strangers on his 90-year-old Underwood typewriter.

Smith started this project in September 2013 and has appeared at the Charlotte Pier, the Rochester Public Market, the Strong Museum of Play, the Rochester Museum and Science Center, and the Memorial Art Gallery, among others. He reached a milestone February 4, surpassing 1,000 stories during an appearance at the Rochester Museum and Science Center.

The night before, he was a guest at the Memorial Art Gallery’s “Valentine #Schmalentine” event and wrote several stories. Here are some of his favorites, paired with vintage Valentine cards from various River Campus Libraries collections.

The Fox and the Hedgehog
Written for a man with spiky hair and his girlfriend.

The fox was loud. He dressed loud, he sang loud, he moved through the forest as if every living creature contained within it wished nothing more than to hear his every word. When others spoke, he pretended to listen, but really he was only waiting for his turn to speak again. He was, in a word, a boor.

The hedgehog was quiet. She dressed quiet, she sang only to herself, and then only in a hum, she assumed that she was an imposition on every creature that had to interact with her. She always apologized to her little breakfast of bugs before she ate, and sometimes after, too.

When the forest was captured by an evil queen, and all the critters made to kneel uncomfortably before her, the resistance that formed in the shadows of the great Elm and Oak trees drew from everyone. It took the quiet, it took the loud, it took the fox, and it took the hedgehog. And of all the unnatural things that happened to restore the forest to sovereignty, it was little remarked that the fox learned how to be quiet during the raids from the little hedgehog, and little remarked that the hedgehog learned how to roar fear into the hearts of the enemy from the fox. But the two who did remark on that, that is, the fox and the hedgehog, thought it a wonderfully strange thing indeed. And out of all that strangeness and all the evil of that year, together they found something loud and quiet both, something that filled both of them up and gave them hope.

Love and Free Will
Written for a thoughtful man I keep running into.

They’d met at the library. Gilbert was checking out a book of astrology and divination, while Lillian was returning a collection of choose your own adventure books. Afterwards, Gilbert would claim that he had been drawn to her by the hand of fate, while Lillian would say that she liked his tie, but the end result was two minutes of cutely awkward conversation and a promise to get coffee the next day.

At the end of the first date, they knew it would never work. Lillian believed in free will, while Gilbert did not, and the two of them felt deep in their bones that that was too wide a philosophical gap for even love to bridge. They went their separate ways.

But somehow they continued to run into each other. At the bistro, at the kite-flying fair, at the yearly Shakespeare for Mermaids festival.

“How strange,” said Lillian, after they bumped into each other the third time in one day, “it almost feels like we’re fated to be together.”

“I had a hunch I might find you here,” said Gilbert, “so that’s why I’m here.”

“Do you think maybe we should give it another try?” said Lillian.

“I’m not sure it’s meant to be, but I do want to give it a try,” Gilbert said.

“Okay,” said Lillian.

“Okay,” said Gilbert.

And together they were very happy.

The Cyclops and the Archeologist
Written for two friends who were particularly proud of the name “Esmerelda.”

Oliver had stolen Esmerelda from the archeological dig she had been working on deep within the Amazon jungle, but once the two of them had gotten over an introduction that Esmerelda still considered rather rude they were quite happy together. Oliver was a giant cyclops, and Esmerelda had a doctorate in archeology from the University of Rochester, but despite their differences they found ways to entertain each other. Esmerelda liked describing what having depth perception was like to Oliver, and Oliver liked showing off how many whole cows he could swallow at once.

The two of them might have been happy together in the jungle for a long time, except that on one fall day, when the sky was grey and the air was chill, Oliver sat on Esmerelda and skewooshed her to death.

Learn more: Karl Smith’s 10-Cent Stories Project