Shannon’s horse crashed through the picture window in the living room like a wrecking ball, busting planks in the pinewood floor and chucking my brother from the saddle like a catapult. Over the couch he flew to smack against the far wall where he almost seemed to hang for a second or two before sliding down to the pile up on the carpet....
Somehow I can't help but feel like they're still out there, the kids we were in the 80's for whom life only carried some semblence of meaning after the folks went to sleep and a clean slip could be made out of the house and into our suburban neighborhoods. Sliding window doors made the least amount of noise, so typically we would sneak out our back porches and then across the dew wet grass. Faint ghosts of distant traffic hummed in the chilled spring air....
Don't look at me,” said Jill, “I don't know what to do with it!” The lobster lay on its back, head and tail rattling across the metal rim of the saucepan. My wife had done everything short of whacking him with a hammer to get him into the boiling water. To the Lobster this was water ballet in a kiddie pool, and at one and a half pounds he - or “Po” as my daughter had dubbed him - was also the shrimpiest of the four. “Maybe we should just buy a Dutch oven,” she shrugged....
He looked at the photo one last time. This would be the nineth or tenth one last time he would look at it today. The photo was of a man who once took peculiar delight in stepping on people only to eventually be stepped on himself. Normally this was nothing out of the ordinary, but what struck Times-P...
Billie was a cheerleader, the captain of the squad, a southern girl with daydreams of antebellum plantation life and soldier-boys-come-a-courting-in-over-starched-uniforms. Everything except the slaves and the whips. Why she ever decided to attend our small perpetually frozen college town on the icy cusp of lake Ontario I will never know. Our basketball team wasn't worth cheering for, and the football team was awol most seasons. Yet I was glad she was there. I may have been in love with her....
Shannon’s horse crashed through the picture window in the living room like a wrecking ball, busting planks in the pinewood floor and chucking my brother from the saddle like a catapult. Over the couch he flew to smack against the far wall where he almost seemed to hang for a second or two before sliding down to the pile up on the carpet....
Somehow I can't help but feel like they're still out there, the kids we were in the 80's for whom life only carried some semblence of meaning after the folks went to sleep and a clean slip could be made out of the house and into our suburban neighborhoods. Sliding window doors made the least amount of noise, so typically we would sneak out our back porches and then across the dew wet grass. Faint ghosts of distant traffic hummed in the chilled spring air....
He looked at the photo one last time. This would be the nineth or tenth one last time he would look at it today. The photo was of a man who once took peculiar delight in stepping on people only to eventually be stepped on himself. Normally this was nothing out of the ordinary, but what struck Times-P...
