"Arrival"

     The road was hard, the weather harder. It took a turn or two to find the old farm. He left the motor running and stood from the driver's seat. The last he'd been here, he was certain he would never see the house again. Cold fingers had to coax the key to memory; with a rusty jiggle the lock conceded and he was certain he would never leave. . .

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER

Image
I've been taking a lot of shots at the GOP-body's that "really, really, really" want to be President and having a grand time doing it (only half-way wishing there was still a talk show to be writing for), and I have to say that my choice is clear. After watching President Obama deliver his State of the Union Address and watching the Gab-Four "debate" each other over the past few weeks, it is obvious to me who has a clear vision for the future of this country. The following is paraphrased from The State of the Union (as a courtesy to any tea-partiers out there , as that is the way you for information disseminated) . . . "Let’s never forget: Millions of Americans who work hard and play by the rules every day deserve a Government and a financial system that do the same. It’s time to apply the same rules from top to bottom: No bailouts, no handouts, and no cop outs. An America built to last insists on responsibility from everybody. -- We need to end the no
Read more

"The Special"

      "The Special”                by   James Patrick Lockett        It was an hour ago – to the second, if you care to be that precise – that we’d broken up. But, since I was looking at a clock next to the glass shelf of high end scotch, all bets were off. Bar Time! Could be an hour, could be could be ten minutes. However, I was on my fourth drink, so it was probably closer to . . .no, wait . . . that’s also a poor gauge. Fuck it, let’s just say sometime within the past hour I became single again.        I sucked the last bit of Jura off an ice cube and set the glass down in hopes of catching the bartender’s eye. I stared passed my empty glass, at the bodies on the dance floor pulsating to bad eighties songs. . .  . . .  traveling in a fried-out Kombi, on a hippie trail head full of zombie, I met a strange lady, she made nervous . . . . . . indeed. Ladies Night re-imagined with a clever slash of a Sharpie to Eighties Night. I could see Maggie and her friends sittin
Read more

CHEMO SABE????

Image
"A firey horse, with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty. . . I own Silver and other precious metals? The Lone. . ." Oh who am I kidding, I can't even say it as a joke. Will you look at this picture? This has to be a nightmare, I thought they had shelved this idea. There is now and has always been only ONE Lone Ranger, Clayton Moore, end of story. Do you remember Clinton Spillsbury, the 1980's attempt to steal the mask from it's rightful owner? No, nobody does and no one's gonna remember the heir to the Armand Hammer fortune (who really, really wants to be an actor) after he turns his trust-fund attention span to something more shiny. Hell, nobody really remembers John Hart, who replaced Clayton Moore briefly in the original series. Clayton Moore owns the word LONE, like Chuck Norris owns the word RANGER. And Depp, really? A drop of indian blood five generations ago does not qualify you to play Tonto, although you've signed
Read more