What the Goat Knows, Nobody Knows

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 →

Not Getting Older is Not in the Contract

“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 →

A Fabulist Dies for Lent

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 →

Here’s the Thing, Lorie, My Name’s not Pauncho

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 →

Vinny Wins a Zymurgy.

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. →

How Delmare Wrote his Next

“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 →

What’s it All Worth, Anyway?

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? →

What Neither of Us Wanted to Hear, but What I Knew Already

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 →

Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish

Farely was gone. They had taken him to the vet. His tail thumped on the gurney. Then it stopped. The eyes glazed, and he was gone. Dianne was surprised to find herself thinking about it two days later. She had not particularly liked the grubby old dog—he was Doug’s. But she stood at the kitchen … Continue reading Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish →

Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast

This is a repost of yesterday's post. Writelee could not resist adding the word "grubby," which qualifies for the Ragtag word of the day. "Grubby" should have been put into the original. There are a few other edits. Writelee has a discomfort about this sketch and the whole series that began with "I Only go … Continue reading Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast →