Just The Three Of Us_The Final Act_This Is Where I Been_The Over Hand Right Incident
Catalog Guide:
Just The Three Of Us
“Do you believe in God?” I ask.I shake my head no.“Why not?” I ask.“It’s hard to put into words,” I say.I look hard at myself and think about it. There isn’t an obvious answer. When I shake my head, I notice that I look sad.“Never mind,” I say.“I’m fine,” I tell myself, resting my forehead against my forehead.We stay that way for some time. The glass is smooth and cool, but it starts to feel sticky after a while, so I move away and wipe the smear with a hand towel. There’s still a slight smudge which moves about my face as I move.“Feeling better?” I ask.“What do you think?” I shoot back.I sm...
The Final Act
Going by her reflection in the stainless-steel, she could see the Prosecution made a good point about her. Too bad his argument had been overruled. According to Judge Holland, “the defendants looks are not a fair or verifiable assessment on their likelihood to commit murder, Mr. Rudolf” to which the Prosecutor had replied under his breath “Exactly my point, your Honor” before sitting back down to review his notes.Meanwhile her sweaty obese attorney had taken center stage – and flopped.She’d recoiled inside. Why couldn’t she have had Mr. Rudolf defend her – especially since he had such star qua...
This Is Where I Been
Trigger warning: racial slurs, racial violenceTime had been when a man could do what he loved and let the money follow. That’s what my daddy always said anyway. Too bad those times, aren’t now – now the money runs the other direction, regardless of what you do. I’m not sure, maybe that bunch of clouds on the horizon were filled with rain, rain to nourish my dust-packed wheat fields; maybe not.Either way, that old shack we’d converted into an outbuilding loomed large before me, nothing but dead wheat shafts surrounding it as far as the eye could see. I felt a chill creep up my spine as I walked...
The Over Hand Right Incident
Benny held the old Polaroid print in his hand. Its white border was stained with dirty fingerprints. An old piece of Sellotape had been wrapped around its top right-hand corner, holding a tear together. On the back, written in black biro it said "Crackpot and the boss, 81".It was him alright, in the image, although much younger. He recognised the old wood paneling from the gym. They had ripped that down about twenty years ago when they expanded. He would stand on the other side of that wall now, where they had knocked through. In the photo, he stood with an arm on the shoulder of what looked l...