On those spring afternoons in sixth grade’drowsy, slumped back at my desk, tracing the letters of Sue Ann Finger’s name carved on the underside of the writing surface’I spent my daydreams trying to visualize a map of the unknown between a girl’s legs. Attacked by a sudden boner, I’d slither in my chair and whisper the Redlegs’ batting order as the thing nosed toward my belt. And hope Mr. Bowser’s recital of the day’s fodder’the eighty-eight counties of Ohio, the shape of Peru, or a real-live kidney from a sow’would speed me through another turn of the clock-hands to the final bell.In those days, even the backseat jiggle of the family’s powder-blue Oldsmobile’on the way to the Methodist Church for a Scout meeting, no less’could call forth a prize-winner. Only problem was I still had no idea what to do with one. (read on…)
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David sat alone in his unheated car in front of his father’s house and stared at the Christmas lights that circled the front windows and wondered if his father knew that this was the day he was going to die. He had wrapped the gun inside a plastic bag and chucked it in the glove compartment beneath the car service manual. The bullets were in a puddle on the seat next to him.The shade of the middle window was only half pulled, and David could just see his father as he puttered around, pudgy and squat. He closed his eyes and saw his father’s face perfectly despite the years between them. The broad forehead shiny with sweat, his fathers’ smallish eyes too close together’same as his own, and the cruel teeth that bit through the words of every mean thing he ever said.
(read on…)
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By the time the foul odor wafted to his nose, the treads of Paul’s boot were packed full. ‘Shit,’ he said dragging his foot in the grass. At least this time he’d noticed the mess before tracking it in the house. He continued mowing the side yard between his and the house to the north, keeping an eye out for the woman who lived there.
‘The next time I see her I’m going to start something,’ Paul said to his wife.
‘Don’t forget we still have to live next door to her,’ Laura said.
‘I don’t give a damn,’ he replied.
(read on…)
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