Carlos The Eagle_Grandma's Sugar Cookie Pie_Buffalo Gal_Passing Through Desert Rose
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Carlos The Eagle
A...an eagle? How on Earth was he, a ninety-five-year old retired mafiosi man to take care of an eagle of all things? Couldn’t Anthony have gotten him a parrot or something? A cat? Anything but an eagle. How was he even meant to start taking care of this thing!? Awkwardly, Feliciano tried to set the animal down into a cage. It wouldn’t budge. Its talons dug into the leather glove that had come with it and it stayed put, eyes narrowed, challenging Feli. After a few more failed attempts, Felciano gave up on trying to get the eagle off the glove. Instead, he would attempt to slide his arm out of...
Grandma's Sugar Cookie Pie
Grandma's Sugar Cookie PieMy cousin is not a cook. Never has been and probably never will be. Last weekend she stopped by for a chat and I invited her to stay for dinner. That sounded rather marvelous to her, she said, as she hadn't planned anything for dinner. She's single, forty, and skinny as all get out. I'm not sure she eats three meals a day. An hour before dinner time, I went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.Charlene, that's my cousin, followed and sat on one of the breakfast stools to chat and watch. I deciwww.onedoor.ccded that the chicken and rice casserole prep wouldn't take long. I had...
Buffalo Gal
Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight Come out tonight Come out tonight Buffalo gal, won’t you come out tonight And dance by the silvery moonI love blizzards. I’m even somewhat of an expert on blizzards. I’ve survived more than one and even have the t-shirt to prove it. Most of the blizzards I survived were when I lived in Buffalo, so a lot of us enjoyed singing that old tune at the beginning of this story. We had other words, which referred to what Buffalo gals would do when instead of the silvery moon there were inches and inches of silvery snow. Up over cars, devouring sidewalks, forcing ...
Passing Through Desert Rose
It was a wide, baked plain west of the Badlands, deep in the heart of the Arizona Country. Against the pitiless, brassy glare of the mid-afternoon sun, the striking white of the settlement walls could be seen like a haze against the barren landscape. A few fingers of cacti and clumps of mesquite grass grew in the harsh soil, if soil it could be termed, otherwise for miles the desert stretched on, north, south and east of the Badlands, like an ocean of white against the pale blue of the sky.“Shore is a one-eyed burg, Ol’ Hoss,” a young rider observed to his stallion who flung its head up as if ...