In the spring OC arrived to see how “the fool’d wintered.” He found an empty cabin with the diary open on the rough log bench to a page dated February 12. The entry was, “The onliest hunt that matters is a man hunt. Going hunting.”
Sometimes I wish I never opened that parcel that mom gave me for Halloween. So, I was glad to see the way it was on Sunday. It was gray and cold all day. The wind was cold. It shook the trailer and scratched the branch of the dead cottonwood back and forth across the window. … Continue reading A Day Too Cold for Goat
Jody hated Halloween more than he hated girls. Actually, he had recently discovered he was only mildly uncomfortable with girls. But Halloween was still the shits. His mother figured kids loved Halloween, kids loved Christmas, kids loved Easter, kids love Fourth of July because there was candy, fireworks, and toys under the tree. For one, … Continue reading What the Goat Knows, Nobody Knows
“Lon?” Vera called. She craned her head and spoke into the rest of the house. She listened. “Lon, Eddie's here.” She cocked her head and listened again. She was a thin, tall woman with kind, brown eyes, and she always seemed to be smiling. Eddie believed it was genuine, but he wondered how she kept … Continue reading Not Getting Older is Not in the Contract
Billy Onnisdale started talking, and of course, because I was in need of entertainment and not being sober enough to stop him, I let him go at it. “I don't know if you remember old Dick Oslinfar. Quite a guy until he gave up lying. Which is why you probably don't remember him. Only thing … Continue reading A Fabulist Dies for Lent
I am not gonna plump shame Sherrie, so let us just say she was a well rounded girl with a penchant for raspberry and apple pies, strawberry ice cream, beef steak, beer, deep fried anything, and etc. etc. There is nothing wrong with having penchants. I have a few myself, but I usually go for … Continue reading Here’s the Thing, Lorie, My Name’s not Pauncho
Vin Smitt had been toking on the dictionary again. This is not a pleasant thing for those of us who are victim to the sequela of his toke. When Vinny dipped into his Webster’s International you could pretty much depend on a whole new species of malapropist propaganda. And winter is not a good time. … Continue reading Vinny Wins a Zymurgy.
“Saloon was a fancy name for the place. Saloon had associations by etymology that suggested class. This was not a class place. The squeak-hinged door had squeaked the same tune for forty years—opening-to-closing, six days a week. (Closed Sundays, except for select parties and football games.) A twenty-four inch, dust-dimmed TV hung from the ceiling … Continue reading How Delmare Wrote his Next
Billy Oswalling got out of his battered pickup, and came across the gravel driveway. It is a gorgeous day, and about to get gorgeouser, Eric Tiodine thought. He wasn’t getting any younger and sitting on his veranda in the morning easing the aches of life was one of his last pleasures. He swung his left … Continue reading What’s it All Worth, Anyway?
I followed the hearse in. And then, I drove around until I found him. He was feeding pigeons popcorn in the park across from the big stone church on North Second. He sat on a park bench in the sun with his back to the street, but I knew it was him. If you grow … Continue reading What Neither of Us Wanted to Hear, but What I Knew Already