Perry was showered and ready for a Montana Cowboy Saturday Night of wild women, sweet liquor and the usual paraphernalia of a Montana Cowboy Saturday night. Unfortunately, Perry’s idea of what a Cowboy Saturday Night should consist of and his execution of that idea never seemed to coincide. Much to Perry’s frustration, one beer was … Continue reading When the Ginger Beer is All Drunk Up.
“Omaha is a place I visited for a wedding once,” Vern said, “It was spring, and the air was sumptuous heavy with moisture and there were trees growing everywhere, and. . . .” “Wait. Wait,” Dean put up his hand, “Hold it right there. Vernie old boy. You said “sumptuous.” “Yes, I did,” the old … Continue reading Vernie Valenine Defines a Word for the Prof
May knew that it was unlikely that she was seeing Mickey. He’d been dead these twenty years. But she was pushing her walker over the threshold between the bedroom and the living room, feeling the deep ache in her hands and knees, and there Mickey was standing on the porch peering in through the shadows … Continue reading The Invitation
A wintering of her mind churns the gone familiars of ninety-two years? Posted in response to the Ragtag Community Daily Prompt cyclone.
Where Daryl saw the necessity for style and high fashion and keeping up with the Marcks’, Gloria saw laundry. Gloria shopped The Nearly New and Second Trys for easy-to-care-for bargains. When pawing the racks for a t-shirt, a sweat-shirt, or jeans Gloria always considered the amount of time that would be required between trips to … Continue reading Style and Laundry
He was looking down at her mailbox, at the address there, nodding his head the way a person does who has found what he is looking for and now has no idea what he is going to do with it. At first Joanie thought he was just some tramp who had wandered a bit far … Continue reading Home is Where
She is looking left, a glass of water with lemon wedge. He scowls right, scotch neat.
Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
“Zip it,” Midge always said. “Zip it kid, or you’re gonna die.” And she would mug what she meant by zipping her thumb and forefinger across her grim lips. "Zip." So this is exactly what Ike did. He zipped it. He was eight years old at the time and figured that zipping it was his … Continue reading Midge and Ike on the Lam