A.G.E's Joint

 New story or old one? Neither.  I do have one coming up, though. We're going back to Washington DC. Last time I got Air and Space, the Zoo, and the main Smithsonian museum. This go around, I'm doing Natural History, Monument Row, and I hope to return to Arlington. It will be in the middle of October, so maybe we won't roast.  We'll see. 

Recently, I submitted a story to an anthology and, lo and behold, IT GOT ACCEPTED!! So, as bit of marketing, hit the link and give the publishers some love. I have to admit, it is a fun read. Heat The Grease.

He wasn’t that talented. He said so himself. A third rate guitar player with a knack for lyrics and the ability to transport an audience into a new world. You could tell he was happiest on stage, watching the faces rise and fall with the tenor of his scratchy voice. We laughed along with the easy banter of the band. Whether it was the prairie scenes of “Mail Order Annie” or the mind at the edge of adultery in “Halfway to Heaven”, you could forget your own foibles for a while and have sympathy for the protagonists. An experience that when it ended, you always came in with a smooth landing. I was in my office balancing a store inventory when the news that Harry had died came over the radio. It felt like a door slamming closed on a significant part of my life. I met him at an after party at the Fox Theater in March 1978, where he invited the attendees to participate in a World Hunger Year event that was coming up. I did and it started a long association with homeless servic...

A pile of laundry tossed against the cold stone staircase, at least it looked like that until the sun began to shine on it. Like a lizard sunning itself, Terry slowly began to move. He had survived another night. Struggling to his feet, he wipes away the brown and kaleidoscope in his eyes.  A chill shook him down to his core making his hands feel like they would break off.  The muscles along his abdomen clinched uncontrollably as what little there wanted to be set free.    “Jesus.  Where am I?”   Wiping the spit from his face, he reached down and felt for his pants.  Still there.  Better than the last time.  It wasn’t that good and he nodded off.  It scared the crap out of him when the cop’s baton touched him down there. The girl wasn’t anywhere in sight, either. Just another day. He ended up leaving he jail in the jumpers he had been booked in with. Bastards couldn’t even find a donated shirt. A bit of sadness set in...

Father Bob left his office to prepare for the evening Good Friday mass.  It had been a long week, with normal interruption of day to day life. After 20 years as a priest, he felt like he was going through the motions, but the service couldn’t be avoided. He ran into his assistant talking to the choir director, discussing the illness of a choir member.  He spoke to both of them and then stepped into the Sacristy to prepare. As Bob gathered the other clergy and choir for the pre service prayer, a strange feeling came over him. He looked out the window and saw the dark clouds. This service was going to be unlike any other. He took a deep breath, said the prayer and entered the sanctuary.  The congregation inside was small and silent.  It didn’t matter .  They were here.  The procession went up the aisle and took their places at the altar.  The service began with the Stations of the Cross liturgy. There were nine plaques lining the walls in a ...

Centaur Joe is getting old His forelimbs ache from the cold. She shuffles through the woods. He still doesn't care. Many suns and many moons. Have passed over his meadow. His centaur mate still grazes there. He doesn't know why. He stay close to his trees. Whil his mind travels far. He never fails to speak. He feels younger then. Centaur Joe is in reverie. The lioness approaches. He doesn't fear her. He knows it is his time. Centaur Joe is gone now. His mate weeps at the loss. The trees shed their leaves In honor of his passing