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
Vardis Huntre was settling on the plot for his new historic romance. The setting would be a mining camp in the Tobacco Root Mountains of Montana in the nineteen twenties. The idea came to him as he was downing a beer in Darcy’s, a dive at the intersection of U.S 287 and Meadow Creek Road. … Continue reading Truth is Not a Good Plot
she says, is my kinda macho -- eyes coursing the bellowing plains of the page like Sythian horsemen, and when I lean to be near, his voice growls wild honey, clenching thought sure as fists on rope, pommel or rose, a wrestler with joy, I’d plunge the tunnels down to hell, for those hands to … Continue reading A Man Who Reads Poetry
“I could pot one,” Isaac had said. “And you could probly wing another before they had your guts out and feeding ants,” Her father said. “So, for once, keep it in your goddamned pants.” Ida Eastwill would remember that until her dying day. She would remember the hot sun, and how heavy and useless the … Continue reading Hunger is Almost a Language
“So,” said the madman at the table, “Today’s topic appears to be Courage.” He said it with a capital because that is the way it appeared to appear. The clown and the architect looked at the clock. The architect was thinking about meeting his mistress in an hour. He was irritating on the monstrosity who … Continue reading A Madman, an Architect, a Barber and a Clown Walk into a Fourth Dimension.