CLABBER

  Pansy and Benny   Pansy glared at Benny, her face was as red as the roses on her print dress. She had just finished telling him to repair the screen door, weed the garden, and clean out the smokehouse. Benny looked out at his pond and dreamed of fishing. “I’m gonna take care of all that, Sweetie.” Years of marriage told Pansy otherwise. “You’re a gonna. You’re a gonna. You’re a gonna shit and fall back in it. That’s what you’re a gonna do. Nothing gets done around here without you going fishing first.” Benny fished a few hours everyday but always finished his chores. He was tempted to point out this fact, but arguing with Pansy was an exercise in futility. He kissed her instead. She pulled back initially, but then accepted the peace offering. How could she not? Benny had stolen her heart the first time she met him – a memory that grew more golden with each passing year. She shared it with anyone who would listen. “I was sixteen and Benny was eighteen. My heart nearly busted from my c

The Fireball 500       Spencer drove a 1972 Ford Pinto. He called it The Fireball 500, because it was the model that often burst into flames in minor accidents. Ralph Nader lobbied to get Pintos removed from the highways. Ford had better lawyers.       Spencer had lived on peanut butter sandwiches and mac-and-cheese for a year to save the money to buy it. The Fireball 500 was not in pristine condition, but its imperfections made Spencer love it even more.      The speedometer was broken so Spencer followed the flow of traffic when he drove. When there was no traffic he counted hash marks. When there were no hash marks, he estimated his speed by watching the pavement through the hole in the floorboard by the passenger seat.       The air conditioner had transformed itself into a heater months ago, so he rolled down the windows. He enjoyed how the wind fluffed his red hair into an afro. When he exited the car, his thin frame and scarlet afro made him look like a mutant dandelion. Passers

Sunday Dinner Daniel Drewry wished he could sail away with the clouds that drifted by the airplane window. But there weren’t enough clouds in the sky to erase the pain of the past year. The year began with the loss of his left kidney to cancer. The stress caused a resurgence of his manic depression, a disease he thought he had left behind in college. His trip to the mental hospital stripped him of his job, his dignity, and his faith. He felt empty and alone. He decided to visit his family. Their lies and abuse drove him away years ago. But he still yearned for a closer connection, or at least a resolution of past differences, so he could get on with his life. He called his mother, Trudy, before he bought his ticket. Trudy was the family matriarch. If she said it would be okay, it would be okay. “ Hey, Mama. It’s me, Danny.” “ Danny? Is it really you?” “ Yes, Mama.” Trudy did not reply for a moment. Daniel knew she was thinking of how to recapture him in he

    After The Sandwiches Are Gone “Papaw, can I go with you next time?” Percy expect s his grandfather’s standard answer, “No. You’ll just beg to come home, as soon as the sandwiches are gone.” His grandfather, Tommy, chuckles then returns to cleaning the day’s catch. Percy eyes are fixed on his grandfather as he scrapes fish’s scales off with a spoon. He takes out his knife once the scales are gone. The knife is thin from being sharpened hundreds of times. It knows how to turn fish into food. Fins, head and tail disappear. No motion is wasted. No tears are shed for the meat. Meat Tommy loves for its taste and the fact that a feast can be bought with a bucket of minnows. Percy winces with every slice of the knife, but he cannot look away.  His grandfather tosses the fish to join its fellows in a pan of water. Once more, Percy asks what he’s asked since kindergarten. “Papaw, can I go…” Tommy smiles and interrupts. “I know. I know. You want to go with me next ti

  Song Of Glory                                                      (Written from The Court of the Crimson King) Sing a song of glory Play the trumpet of joy Beat the drum to save the holy Before tomorrow is gone The beast will hold you, trick you Caging you in castles from times long gone Filling your brain with a slaver’s dreams Destroying the rainbow beauty of now So, sing up the song of glory Kill the beast to save the holy Bury the killer of joy Deep in his tomb of fear Leave him now Feel the breeze of reason Helping you write your own song Remember your freedom is yours to keep Yes, take down his flag unholy Return your mind to joy You must sing the song of glory End the reign of the would be the king  

WARNING: This tale may offend you. It contains scenes of murder, rape, incest, and extreme animal cruelty. Please don’t read it if you have a tender heart. GRADY'S DUMPLINGS I shot Daddy before I ate his cat. Me and Daddy was in the kitchen. The bulb hanging from the cord in the ceiling swung back and forth shining light and then dark on Daddy’s face. The shot from Granddaddy's shotgun took off the top of his head. Brains, blood and skull flew all over Mamma’s rose curtains, the ones she embroidered last spring before the cancer took her. I begged her to stop smoking, but she wouldn’t listen. Now there was a bloody mess all over the last pretty thing she made. Daddy fell and began flopping around – making a real mess. I held him down with the gun barrel while I put a slug in his chest. Maybe it hit his heart. Maybe not. But he stopped flopping. My hands got bloody as I wiped down the kitchen real good. Mamma always taught us to clean up our own mess. Then I drug Dad