The Bill Gothard Mess.. Somewhere, out on the prairie, a weary, broad-shouldered rancher settles down on a log by the fire. His wife is nearby. She’s gorgeous. She wears cowgirl denim and a blouse tight enough to reveal the Almighty’s blessings without causing pandemonium amongst the hired hands. She slides down onto..
Category: Fiction - page 3
Short Story, Novels, False Starts, Scripts, Video, Pointlessness, Hard to Believe
My wife is a heart-mender. She’s strong but tender; she proposed a get-away week-ender, sort of a tension-ender. So, wenders we, freeway bound, we were brought to a complete stop by traffic and the bender of a fender some miles away, or so we conjecture. She’s driving. So off the freeway I send her, in..
Like most people, fabulous wealth undoes me. I sat in the oak paneled, west coast waiting room of Senator Helen Mitarksy and marveled at the 16 foot ceilings. The room was crowned with a massive interior cornice, studded with marble dentils, and a great glass eye in the center of the ceiling allowed a..
Some years ago, I was on the phone with a woman from Minnesota. It was a January day in Southern California — a very crisp, cold 58 degrees or so. I remember how cold it was because it was one of the few days I had the impulse to wear a t-shirt under my..
We were fighting over an airplane. That was my first memory. The airplane was an apple crate, and we were three years old, and when you sat inside the crate, you imagined the cockpit and the wings and the propeller, and I remember it being a pretty good little reverie, especially if you could..
“Father, I would have wisdom.” “Then you must read, ponder, contemplate..” “Who shall be my teacher?” “A man of wisdom, who knows the Word.” “I know of such a teacher.” “Who, son?” “A man called Bill O’Reilly.” “…Son?” “Yes, father?” “You should consider making shoes.” (more…)
Randy: It’s who I am. I have no choice.. Paul: Well, forgive me, Randy, but that is just hard to believe… Randy: I’ve known it since I was five years old. Paul: ..
“Let me put it this way,” Walt said, taking a calming, diplomatic breath, “we need an Irish tenor to sing this song.” “What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying we need an Irish tenor.” (more…)