March 27, 2017 · 1:20 PM
March 20, 2017 · 11:20 AM
AS SURPRISED AS POPS WAS, he didn’t show it. He had seen transfers before, but this was the first one that had almost dropped on his head.
“Quincy,” Pops repeated. “Can’t say as I recollect anybody named Quincy.”
“He’s the marshal in these parts,” the stranger said.
Pops saw the man slide a small blue object into his pants pocket.
“Now I remember. I met the marshal once; didn’t know his name was Quincy though. Anyway, you’re about thirty miles off target.”He paused, waiting for the newcomer to react; when he didn’t, Pops continued to speak. “Like I said, you’re about thirty miles off. He’s north of here in a town called Baine.”
“North you say?”
“Yep.” Pops took a moment to evaluate the stranger. “Gotta name, friend?”
“Lynch,” was all he said.
“Don’t talk much, do you?”
“Ain’t got much to say, leastwise not to you.”
“Friendly too, I see.”
“I’ll be leaving now, wouldn’t have an ellack I could borrow, would ya?”
“Afraid not, only got the one.” It’s against my better judgment, he thought, but being as I’ve never been accused of using judgment good or otherwise. “Why don’t you stick around, have some coffee and I’ll take a look at that chin of yours.”
“I guess I can do that, a cup of joe would hit the spot.”
Pops and Jake’s quarters were modest. Two bunks, a small kitchenette and work stations to monitor inflow and output. The kitchenette boasted a small table with four chairs.
Lynch took a seat while Pops blew the dust out of two cups, put the coffee on to perk and located the first aid kit.
Lynch didn’t budge as Pops cleaned the wound with alcohol wipes. Once he had worked his way through the blood and hair, he found the gash in the gaunt man’s chin. He looked through the first aid kit and found what he was looking for. Unscrewing the top from the small tube, he squeezed the two ends of the wound together, and ran a line of adhesive down the length of the laceration.
Lynch moved his mouth to speak.
“No,” Pops ordered. “No talking till this sets up.”He held the wound together and counted to sixty, then released his fingers. “You’re good to go. That glue will last long enough for your wound to heal and is stronger than your own skin.”
“Much obliged,” Lynch said, rubbing at the newly closed gash. The coffee pot signaled its doneness by bubbling up into the glass knob on top.
Pops poured two cups. “I take mine black, how about you?”
“Black’s fine.” Lynch accepted the cup.
The men sat enjoying their beverage.
Lynch spoke first.
“Sorry ’bout my gruff attitude earlier.”
“Nothing to worry about. A new place will do that to you, especially when you planned to end up somewhere else.”
Lynch couldn’t tell his benefactor he was in fact exactly where he wanted to be. This one fact weighed heavy on his mind, but no matter—when you have a job to do, you can’t afford thoughts like these to get in the way.
“So,” Pops said, “what brings you to these parts?”
Lynch took a sip of his coffee and pursed his lips.
Pops’ eyes grew wide, the laser blade having split him from groin to sternum.
Lynch stood and retracted the four foot long beam of light. He shoved the handle into his front pocket and then placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder.
Pops continued to stare in disbelief. “Why?”
“Nothing personal, just business.” He held Pops’ shoulder and eased him down until his cheek lay touching the table.
March 13, 2017 · 10:56 AM
If a stubborn obstetrician collided with an obstinate statistician, would you consider this situation awkward or just a mild coalition?
Have you ever been in an awkward situation? If your answer is no, then you’re either telling a fib nine miles long or you really were born this morning. Me, I tend to live in an awkward situation. How so, you ask? Being a writer, I purposely send different characters traveling in so many different directions I can’t keep up with the various scenarios. Adding to this is my subconscious tendency to interject small bits of myself into each character I conceive.
Now I’d like to illustrate a real life example of what might be an awkward situation. The youth minister from the church I attend came by to help me out today. I believe we may have seen each other once, but other than that…there is no ‘other than that’; we didn’t know each other from Adam. There were no introductions, no rapport; just “hello, I’m me”, followed by “hello me, I’m me.” I showed him a few of the ropes, we sat down, began to work, and the awkward situation I feared turned out not to be awkward at all. I guess if you want to avoid situations of an awkward nature…well then, I’m afraid I can’t help you.
March 6, 2017 · 12:12 PM
SAL RICKY HAD CLEARED the saloon wall by ten feet when Clay’s gun fired. The dual rounds flew true, making contact in the middle of his back. A bright light and a sonic boom of sorts ensued, splitting the creature in half. The two portions continued to run, slowing to a wobble and falling over sideways. No blood or fluid escaped the bifurcating wound as the molten copper rendered the cauterization complete.
Clay shook his head and picked himself up off the floor. A flood of pain shot from his right hand, up his arm, spidered through his shoulder and into his brain.
“Remind me not to do that again,” he said to himself, as he gingerly shook his hand hoping to relieve the widespread burning.
He made his way through the hole in the saloon wall (compliments of one decimated hydrak), and upon reaching the deceased creature, he nudged it with his boot.
“Now I’ve got to move two large pieces that are nothing but dead weight as opposed to one larger being that could move itself.” He removed his hat, lowered his head and shook it several times. After replacing his hat, he looked at the two dead halves.
“Why do they always have to choose the hard way?”
February 27, 2017 · 11:23 AM
I’ve Written Miles of Line With an Ink Pen and Slashed a Sword Through the Air…For me The Jury’s Still Out
Don’t ya just love cliché’s? There’s one in particular I’ve heard most of my life, and that is: the pen is mightier than the sword. I know what Edward Bulwer-Lytton was trying to say in 1839, and it certainly rings true, but when I attempt to embrace it, try as I might, I cannot. Each time the saying comes to mind, even though I’m a writer, I envision myself bringing a ball point pen to a sword fight–not a pretty sight. Nuff said.
Since I brought up the subject of being a writer, I’d like to mention the many new words you run across as you write. Along with writing, I’ve always had a good memory. Put the two together, add a little curiosity, and you’ll come up with someone who has a flair for trivia. I often receive compliments on my ability to retain a myriad of information, which translates into a proficiency for trivia. Now, we all know what trivia is–which means my claim to fame is a head full of useless information.
I hate to say it, but it looks like I’ve written myself into another corner. On the plus side, that’s more work for me.
February 20, 2017 · 12:35 PM
Earlier in life, I fancied myself a musician headed for the big time. Oh, I guess you could say I had my moment in the small time limelight, but that’s about as far as it got in my world of hard rock mania. I quit the band about six months before my son was born. I figured it wouldn’t be right trying to raise a child and play music every weekend. It turned out to be the right decision.
I did, however, continue to beat on my acoustic and would occasionally fire up the Les Paul for my rock fix. This also turned out to be the right decision. I would hand my little buddy a pick and sit down to play for him some of his favorite tunes. We’d dim the lights in the house, maybe light a candle or two, and I’d begin to play and sing “Wooly Swamp” or “Black Water Hattie” and let him use his pick to scratch down the strings every once in a while. When he got older, he began to listen to my favorite band, “RUSH.” He began to play bass and after a while we started learning “RUSH” tunes. We saw them in concert in 2002 and every year they toured after that, until their 40th anniversary in 2015, which turned out to be their farewell tour. They were good times.
In fact, my son was the reason I began to write. On a surf fishing trip to Cape Hatteras, after I was informed that a layoff was on the horizon, he suggested I give writing a try. He had read several of my short stories and thought writing may be a good fit. I wasn’t sure I had a novel in me, being so used to penning short stories. I gave it a try, and my fourth novel entitled “DEADLY REIGN” is due to be released in March 2017. Never hurts to try!
February 13, 2017 · 10:35 AM