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Sunday, March 11, 2012

story 5 of 11, I'll quit before I get that license

story 5 of 11, I'll quit before I get that license

fiction
edward w pritchard

author continues with his goal of writing 11 short short stories in one sitting with no preparation or bullpen of ideas

Impossible. We are not in Mussolini's Italy. I will not get a real estate license to write articles and stories for the New York magazines. Only some of my stories are about Real property and the entire idea is preposterous. I am a writer not a salesman. I have never sold a house nor have I wanted too. The bureaucrats have lost their sanity on this one. Still I do not know where to turn for assistance. Threats have been made against me and not just from the agents themselves. Yesterday was the last straw...
to be continued

story 5 of 11

only with a masai

only with a masai

story 4 of 11

fiction
edward w pritchard

Donna could only get sexually interested in young Masai men. Not easy to find in Manhattan. She liked the thick white teeth, she liked the height and she liked the showmanship that Masai braves displayed.

Saturday afternoons after her shift at the United Nations public relations department she would walk through the six auditoriums and carefully scan the audiences at the orientation meetings and look...
to be continued

once a soldier

once a soldier

fiction
edward w pritchard

story 3 of 11

Father was eating a baloney sandwich and had just handed me baloney and cheese when he began to talk about his best friend Homey Williams who was killed in World War two. My father was at his side when he died and he had never mentioned it to me before. The subject of Sergeant Homey's violent death was not an appropriate subject to discuss with a ten year old boy but I was very interested because my dad had never talked to me about war before and I was fascinated by combat at that time in my life.

Half way through the story I dropped the baloney and cheese sandwich and was afraid for a minute I would throw up. Father continued to calmly supply me details on the confrontation his friend Homey had with a hand grenade. Here was a side of my Father I couldn't...
to be continued

Hoping for a family funeral

Hoping for a family funeral

story 2 of 11

fiction
edward w pritchard

I only get to see my ex-wife at family funerals; at least if I want to see her when she acts the way she used to towards me, with affection, with a first mind attitude. It's not easy waiting between funerals to see the only one you love. Love is patient however and I adjust, to the wait and to the loss of relatives and friends. It's worth it to see my ex again, see her the way it used to be.

I have devised an early warning system between the funeral home our family customarily uses and...
to be continued

11 stories, # 1, strictly first class

11 stories, # 1, strictly first class

with no Internet at home author attempts to write 11 short stories quickly with no bullpen of stories or ideas

fiction
edward w pritchard

It's a cubical but not bad for me traveling at 22,000 feet New York to Dubai. It's my office and I do this flight twice a week, once each way.

It's a working flight for me. First class accommodations with my seat/bed modified into a work area. Just like a standard cubical except it's on an airplane. First class accommodations are important to upholding my image. I am an art buyer and seller. Dubai is where the new money is in the art world
now  and I am a deal maker. Still it's difficult to conduct business at 22,000 feet but I adjust,
 if ...
to be continued
story 1

Saturday, March 3, 2012

three ladies with no tulley

three ladies with no tulley

fiction
edward w pritchard


Steamy and clammy down at the beach, the first day of fishing season began at midnight. My girl Martinique called me wanting special attention being slightly peculiar because of the tides.

Heavens no, my girl, its the first night of fishing season, tonight the Tulley's run. I'll take my dingy to Swenson's marina and buy bait and Old Baily and drink and fish all night with me mates. In the morning I will bring you fresh Tulley enough for three days.

No, no shouted Martinique into the phone. I'll call Randy O'Sullivan or Barney Crayford. I need you tonight. Come timely to me.

Laugh did I. See you in the morning I exclaimed. All the men of the village will be at sea tonight. The Tulley's will run. The wait will be good for you, old horse. I see you in the morning.

About two AM on a dark and stormy sea, instigator Barney Crayford rowed along side my boat. Barney says for all to hear, he sees Martinique over at Shatterstown tavern at ten PM sizing up the college boys down from New Jersey. Barney says then at 11:30  Martinique is over at Busby's drinking double banana shooters with two sorority girls, philosophy majors both, from Connecticut. Later Barney tells, he saw Martinique with those two lasses walking arm in arm in the hotel district.

I beat it up and down the coast, North to Atlantic City and South to Ocean side looking for M.

Imagine, what could three ladies do at the shore with no Tulley for the night?

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Setting Bea on the washer

Setting Ba on the washer

fiction
edward w pritchard

Crazed with youth I set Bea on the washer for twenty minutes or more.
Later she jumped up and on a little as I grew weaker with age.
Lastly we argued about the clothes.
Why did she always have to do laundry alone?