Chapter 4 As I’ve said many times: I don’t like to run. But being shot at makes me need to run, and that’s what I found myself doing shortly after leaving the Colonel’s house. Running, away from shots fired, and heading toward anywhere but there. I didn’t get a good look at the rude individual who decided my insides needed… Read more »
Chapter 3 I’d spent some time harassing the other men from the poker game, but came up empty. All I had so far was that, on occasion, Nice Mister Bert hit his pregnant wife, she was taking her clothes off for a lowlife to paint her, and he was still missing. The Colonel didn’t seem to know anything about his… Read more »
Chapter 2 I don’t like to run. It’s not that I’m lazy but I’ve got a nagging issue with my fat getting in the way of me being a good runner. It makes my knees hurt, my ankles ache, and after a while of it my hips even seem to swell up. That’s like a practical joke, a fat guy… Read more »
Chapter 1 Getting a job out of town seemed counter-interuitive for me, because I had to keep the day job. But when the offer came in with more zeroes than I expected, I couldn’t turn it down. I found myself driving down to New Orleans to see a man about his daughter’s husband. Apparently the man was a cad, and… Read more »
Despite the cold relationship with Bob Donnelly I decided to stay in town. It was the roaring twenties, and things were going well even in tis podunk town in the southwest of Mississippi. I put down a deposit on an apartment in town, over a deli owned by a crazy veteran of the war. He was probably the only Jewish… Read more »
How can it be a home coming if you’ve never been there before? But that’s what I’d like to call it. It was 1923, and I was heading into a small town in Southern Mississippi called Escagoula Point. If what my mother told me on her deathbed was true, the only time I’d been there was the night I was… Read more »