hell is entered through the junk yard/part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
My recently dead friend was driving the big old car very fast through the back streets toward the local junk yard. I was in the back seat.
A childhood friend also long dead waved to us as we entered between the cluttered junk cars and piles of old parts. Cranes and bull dozers pushed the old car parts about.
My friend chatted to me into the back seat like a cab driver entertaining a paying customer. My friend backed the big powerful car too quickly back first into a row of junk cars. The car we were in had a door at the rear like a station wagon, or was it a hearse.
A large ferocious black dog guarded the entrance to a subterranean space that the swinging back door of our vehicle was now blocking. The dog viciously tried to get at me in the car.
Calmly I prepared to enter the descending road into hell that the large black dog Cerberus loyally guarded.
end part 1
part 2
Hell is entered through the junk yard part 2
I wasn't about to enter hell through a junk yard. I was concocting an elaborate dream obviously induced by the shot of medicine the two ambulance drivers had given me at the basketball court where I had badly broken my ankle. Something ominous was happening to me and my subconscious was warning me.
I could hear the two ambulance drivers talking. They might need to give the guy in the back another shot. I was the guy in the back. I shook off the dream about the junkyard and going to hell and willed myself to lay still and focus on what the guys were saying.
They were going to take me somewhere and sell me for future medical parts. I was sure I heard that. I knew that was real. I couldn't let them give me another shot. I had to wake up and protect myself.
end part 2
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
hell is entered through the junk yard
hell is entered through the junk yard
fiction
edward w pritchard
My recently dead friend was driving the big old car very fast through the back streets toward the local junk yard. I was in the back seat.
A childhood friend also long dead waved to us as we entered between the cluttered junk cars and piles of old parts. Cranes and bull dozers pushed the old car parts about.
My friend chatted to me into the back seat like a cab driver entertaining a paying customer. My friend backed the big powerful car too quickly back first into a row of junk cars. The car we were in had a door at the rear like a station wagon, or was it a hearse.
A large ferocious black dog guarded the entrance to a subterranean space that the swinging back door of our vehicle was now blocking. The dog viciously tried to get at me in the car.
Calmly I prepared to enter the descending road into hell that the large black dog Cerberus loyally guarded.
fiction
edward w pritchard
My recently dead friend was driving the big old car very fast through the back streets toward the local junk yard. I was in the back seat.
A childhood friend also long dead waved to us as we entered between the cluttered junk cars and piles of old parts. Cranes and bull dozers pushed the old car parts about.
My friend chatted to me into the back seat like a cab driver entertaining a paying customer. My friend backed the big powerful car too quickly back first into a row of junk cars. The car we were in had a door at the rear like a station wagon, or was it a hearse.
A large ferocious black dog guarded the entrance to a subterranean space that the swinging back door of our vehicle was now blocking. The dog viciously tried to get at me in the car.
Calmly I prepared to enter the descending road into hell that the large black dog Cerberus loyally guarded.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
you don't see many handicapped children at restaurants
you don't see many handicapped children at restaurants
fiction
edward w pritchard
When you are down, when you are blue, when you are dissatisfied with your life or your situation it's nice to go to a restaurant and have a fine meal. It always picks me up when I am lonely or sad to be in a busy restaurant with food I enjoy and have a comfortable but ritualized public experience with other diners, even those I don't know or will never see again.
You don't see many handicapped children at restaurants. It would be nice if given the constraints the world puts on handicapped children if once a week or maybe only once a month they could go out to a restaurant and have a good meal and a comfortable experience. It would be good if anyone handicapped who wanted to go could eat for free once a week at an area restaurant. It could be done on a slow night, like Tuesday maybe. The restaurants that wanted to participate could give the food for free to handicapped children and in return get a sticker or something acknowledging their participation and others of the general dining public would know to patronize that establishment. It's a good idea and good for business.
I hope someone high functioning with lots of drive and organizational skills will put this idea together around here where I live. In the meantime I will try in my way to promote and start the ball rolling.
fiction
edward w pritchard
When you are down, when you are blue, when you are dissatisfied with your life or your situation it's nice to go to a restaurant and have a fine meal. It always picks me up when I am lonely or sad to be in a busy restaurant with food I enjoy and have a comfortable but ritualized public experience with other diners, even those I don't know or will never see again.
You don't see many handicapped children at restaurants. It would be nice if given the constraints the world puts on handicapped children if once a week or maybe only once a month they could go out to a restaurant and have a good meal and a comfortable experience. It would be good if anyone handicapped who wanted to go could eat for free once a week at an area restaurant. It could be done on a slow night, like Tuesday maybe. The restaurants that wanted to participate could give the food for free to handicapped children and in return get a sticker or something acknowledging their participation and others of the general dining public would know to patronize that establishment. It's a good idea and good for business.
I hope someone high functioning with lots of drive and organizational skills will put this idea together around here where I live. In the meantime I will try in my way to promote and start the ball rolling.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
story 11 of 11
story 11 of 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
Visari the Italian painting and writer w...
to be continued
fiction
edward w pritchard
Visari the Italian painting and writer w...
to be continued
Gertrude screamed " your anecdotes are not literature", story 10 of 11
Gertrude screamed " your anecdotes are not literature"
fiction
edward w pritchard
story 10 of 11
Gertrude screamed" your anecdotes are not literature.
Earnest called her a dyke.
It was the last time the once two friends talked.
Later when Earnest Hemingway wrote "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" he considered naming one of the vultures in the story Gertrude. Sadly Gertrude Stein's fame faded and Earnest...
to be continued
fiction
edward w pritchard
story 10 of 11
Gertrude screamed" your anecdotes are not literature.
Earnest called her a dyke.
It was the last time the once two friends talked.
Later when Earnest Hemingway wrote "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" he considered naming one of the vultures in the story Gertrude. Sadly Gertrude Stein's fame faded and Earnest...
to be continued
Bijoux Jones stops for a drink/story 9 of 11
Bijoux Jones stops for a drink/story 9 of 11
fiction
edward w pritchard
The man Jones waited until he finished his drink before he shot the bar owner Tom Liston.
That Bijoux Jones is a cold blooded SOB screamed Mrs. Liston. Later after Mrs. Liston left with family Johny Sorwell disagreed. Jones is a professional said Mr. Sorwell. Tom owed money to the wrong people. It was just business with Bijoux Jones continued Johny Sorwell. Jones is a man who can appreciate a fine mixed drink and Tom Liston was the best mixologist in this part of Texas said Mr. Sorwell. Sorwell's girlfriend Edith Sheets agreed, " Mr Liston ..
to be continued
fiction
edward w pritchard
The man Jones waited until he finished his drink before he shot the bar owner Tom Liston.
That Bijoux Jones is a cold blooded SOB screamed Mrs. Liston. Later after Mrs. Liston left with family Johny Sorwell disagreed. Jones is a professional said Mr. Sorwell. Tom owed money to the wrong people. It was just business with Bijoux Jones continued Johny Sorwell. Jones is a man who can appreciate a fine mixed drink and Tom Liston was the best mixologist in this part of Texas said Mr. Sorwell. Sorwell's girlfriend Edith Sheets agreed, " Mr Liston ..
to be continued
story 8 of 11, in memoriam Earnest/ for Micheal Palin
story 8 of 11, in memoriam Earnest/ for Micheal Palin
fiction
edward w pritchard
Earnest Hemingway had been writing his weight on the walls of the bathroom of the ranch as was his custom a few minutes before his death. For once he had lost weight, hence the problem. The once robust man's man was described as thin and drawn looking according to long time acquaintances interviewed by Ketchum police.
A double barrel shotgun leaves an awful mess said officers who agreed to talk if left unnamed. He may have been cleaning the gun said another anonymous witness. I don't think so, if you read his books and stories...
Hemingway's end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Earnest Hemingway had been writing his weight on the walls of the bathroom of the ranch as was his custom a few minutes before his death. For once he had lost weight, hence the problem. The once robust man's man was described as thin and drawn looking according to long time acquaintances interviewed by Ketchum police.
A double barrel shotgun leaves an awful mess said officers who agreed to talk if left unnamed. He may have been cleaning the gun said another anonymous witness. I don't think so, if you read his books and stories...
Hemingway's end
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