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Davey didn't come down stairs. Just stayed in his room flyin' that little, android sky-pony. It was smart to. Turned neat, fast figure eights. Throwed back it's head and whinnied. This one was better. He was glad he got the Clydesdale. That other one was too puny.
Listen to them grown-ups yellin' downstairs. Mom-mom cryin' . Daddy talkin' a mile a minute. Mommy jigglin' the ice in her whiskey drink. He could hear that real clear. He was used to it. Sometimes he made out he couldn't hear it. Called it 'the rocky-rocks.' Davey would a been happier if the dog was up here, but that hound was pop's hound and he wern't goin' nowheres.
Must a been about five cop tanks outside. Everybody makin' calls, bringin' in sniff-hogs. That's a new breed. You know how they used to train them French pigs to sniff out truffles under all that damp shit? Well these porkers raised up from them. Just as good as dogs. Better, even. 'Cause if they don't do right you can always eat 'em.
Whitey holed up in the stables. Just sat there dealin' hisself hand after hand a black jack. Just settin'. Just thinkin'. He knew Alec was dead. And he knew where he were. Maybe little later he'd be able to sneak off and meet that book son-a-bitch. Prob'ly could do so now. Still, no tellin' what them Texacos might 'require.' Send him out for somethin'. Make him tote shit down from the attic. Whitey truly hated them. Used to dream 'bout smashin' in Zeb's head wit a rock. To bad he wern't th dead one. Alec wern't too bad, if you liked crazy shit. Set hisself up as a theater director. Live wit all them commmuniss hinky-dinks in Barsoom. Who the hell wanna sit through one a them fancy-talkin'-shit-shows anyway?
So Whitey din't go nowhere. Just sat, right down there in the dirt. Saw two cops run out and grab somethin' from one a the tanks. Heard Miss Sissie warblin' one a her hymns. Bart was cryin'. That made him feel all tingly-like. Shit, that was scary.
Two seconds later he saw it. Fell right down next to his foot. Some goomer must a tossed it. Looked like a caterpillar wit rigor-mortis at first. But then the light from the stable catch somethin'. It was a fingernail, a human-bean, man's fingernail. 'Cept for the fact it was all chewed up 'round the base, the rest of it looked OK. Even had a little tattoo settin' right up by the knuckle. A. T., Alec Texaco. Little shit head did that to hisself when he was ten years old.
Well..... at least 'some' a him was back.....
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
this here our 500th post. please hit the SHARE button. please favor us with a comment. thank you.
Listen to them grown-ups yellin' downstairs. Mom-mom cryin' . Daddy talkin' a mile a minute. Mommy jigglin' the ice in her whiskey drink. He could hear that real clear. He was used to it. Sometimes he made out he couldn't hear it. Called it 'the rocky-rocks.' Davey would a been happier if the dog was up here, but that hound was pop's hound and he wern't goin' nowheres.
Must a been about five cop tanks outside. Everybody makin' calls, bringin' in sniff-hogs. That's a new breed. You know how they used to train them French pigs to sniff out truffles under all that damp shit? Well these porkers raised up from them. Just as good as dogs. Better, even. 'Cause if they don't do right you can always eat 'em.
Whitey holed up in the stables. Just sat there dealin' hisself hand after hand a black jack. Just settin'. Just thinkin'. He knew Alec was dead. And he knew where he were. Maybe little later he'd be able to sneak off and meet that book son-a-bitch. Prob'ly could do so now. Still, no tellin' what them Texacos might 'require.' Send him out for somethin'. Make him tote shit down from the attic. Whitey truly hated them. Used to dream 'bout smashin' in Zeb's head wit a rock. To bad he wern't th dead one. Alec wern't too bad, if you liked crazy shit. Set hisself up as a theater director. Live wit all them commmuniss hinky-dinks in Barsoom. Who the hell wanna sit through one a them fancy-talkin'-shit-shows anyway?
So Whitey din't go nowhere. Just sat, right down there in the dirt. Saw two cops run out and grab somethin' from one a the tanks. Heard Miss Sissie warblin' one a her hymns. Bart was cryin'. That made him feel all tingly-like. Shit, that was scary.
Two seconds later he saw it. Fell right down next to his foot. Some goomer must a tossed it. Looked like a caterpillar wit rigor-mortis at first. But then the light from the stable catch somethin'. It was a fingernail, a human-bean, man's fingernail. 'Cept for the fact it was all chewed up 'round the base, the rest of it looked OK. Even had a little tattoo settin' right up by the knuckle. A. T., Alec Texaco. Little shit head did that to hisself when he was ten years old.
Well..... at least 'some' a him was back.....
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this here our 500th post. please hit the SHARE button. please favor us with a comment. thank you.
5 comments:
Hey! Billy,
Congrats on the milestone! Man, I saw that in my e-mail and it was a 'real food for thought' moment. You know, I was trying to compare it to something that I could grasp a hold of..... WOW!V-wings Kravits! Just being so new to this whole arena... that was a real eye-opening... "sah---LUTE!"
The old birds in T'ville have wrapped my knuckles and of course idk Y....and the research is beginning to look like a game of "Clue" w/o an ending. But the 'poor birds' don't know they were just a part of the greater plan..
bwahahahha!
Well, I assume you now really know the meaning of '500'! Count them! AWESOME! And keep the posts coming in. I enjoy them regularly w/ coffee.. of course, I have an "incoming central mission control" now, since I ran into a slight problem with my 'operations officer' and now "it" helps me keep an eye open with no chance of a 'green colored attack' whilst writing in book ..3?
contact info:
ogtomes@yahoo.com
ogtomeswriteaway.blogspot.com
ogtomes.blogspot.com
Drop me a few lines.... I would love to hear what tricks you have learned in your expedition through time as a "kick-butt word artist"!
I like your style! Come on, visit 'write away' and let loose with a few pointers you might want to share! You know we fellow authors need all the 'edge' we can find! Again CONGRATULATIONS!
I'll check this one out O.G. Thanks V.
Thanks for the comment, Mr. O.G.Tomes ! It is greatly appreciated. I tried to respond via another social site, but could not get through. that happens a lot. We've all been in one form of 'twitmo' or other from time to time. Use this space when ever you want. Get word out via hootsuite, or some other vehicle that your observations and insights will be available here. I'll come by your blog too.
why are the 'birds' 'angry'? Sometimes we do things and don't even know it. I was 'unlisted' on last weeks FridayFollows ranking because I listed more that fifty people. I know some people who wind up in 'twitmo' a few hours every day because they apparently do something and they don't know what it is. Don't understand all of your references.Is it convenient to clarify?
until u get back on your prefered micro-blogging site, I searched (social sites similar to *******) there are a few of them. One that looks good is PLURK. Others are available too. STUMBLEUPON directs more people to my site that any other. It's easy to post material there. Contact the social site and ask what You can do to get back in their good graces. people do that all the time.
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