Want to hear some entertaining stories but don't have a lot of time. The stories in this podcast are short and tough or short and sweet. Few exceed ten minutes, the outer limit of the average American's attention span. Simpson has been writing fiction for
Wild Bill Simpson, my pappy. A look back at his Life & Timessimpson-books.com
As a kid, because of her looks, she was used and abused, deceived and exploited. They used her to hawk perfume and blue jeans, underwear and dreams.But she was tough, resilient, ambitious. She channeled that abuse and exploitation to build her own company, to make millions, to beat them at their own game. But at what price? simpson-books.com
A monument to virility. Manly to the core. Fifty years chasing the ladies. But, alas, not so much anymore.He started young, made women his vocation. Unfortunately it's looking like he'll need a fresh inspiration.Times they are a-changin, machinery all worn out. Poor boy's emasculated, of that there can be no doubt.simpson-books.com
Trouble at the mall.White kids tangled up with black kids. The N-word careens around the food court. One kid pushes another kid. Fists fly. Blood spills.The cops arrive. They put the white kid in a chair, the black kid on the floor. Tempers flare. Guns are drawn.What's Gus going to do? What's Gus going to say?simpson-books.com
The suits at corporate tell Sam to go home. Relax. Enjoy life. He no longer needs to report to the office."I'll be working from home?""Nope.""What then? Am I fired?" Sam asks. "Good God, no, Sam. Paycheck and health insurance safe and sound."Sam, baffled but delighted, heads home. Tells Shelley. She's suspect. Wants the details."Chill, Shel. It's the new economy." simpson-books.com
She's been having some trouble sleeping. A lot on her mind. Kids. Job. Boss. Ex-hubby. Noisy furnace. Bad trans. Vlad Putin. School shootings. Ultra-processed foods. And on and on and on. No end to the toils and troubles. She put up the black-out curtains. Stuffed her ears with wax plugs. Meditated. Found something to be grateful for. And fell fast asleep lickity split.But now it's just three stinking hours later. 2:33 a.m. And she's awake. Wide awake. In the pitch black of early morning. Body and brain buzzing. Can't lie still. Can't quiet the monkey noise in her head.Madness. She feels right on the edge of madness.simpson-books.com
Gary Edward Earl, better known as Gas, has been tasked with fixing the supply chain problems. He could likely do the job from his home office in the Garden State suburbs, but what fun would that be?Gas wants to hit the road. Or is this case, the sky. First class all the way. Singapore. Zurich. Around the world at 30,000 feet.Late October but everywhere Gas goes it's hot hot hot. Broiling hot. And humid. But no big thang. AC's hummin. Pushing out it's cool, dry hair. In limos. Airport terminals. 787s. Office buildings. Restaurants. Hotel lobbies. Hotel suites. No matter where he ventures, Gas stays cool. simpson-books.com
Cold and windy at the summit, but Jake's determined to make one last run. His buds say no way, done for the day, but Jake moves to the beat of his own drummer. He leaves the warmth and camaraderie of the lodge, steps into his Atomics, and heads for the lift.Trouble is, there's a perfect storm brewing. Wind, cold, snow, party at the tech billionaire's ski lodge, obstinance, and lift operators who are stoned, injured, and dreaming of sex.A man may think he has some measure of control over his life, but man is, by and large, a fool. simpson-books.com
Lem leaves work feeling good. Feeling fine. His presentation went well. He's looking forward to a mellow ride home followed by a pleasant evening with the family.Unfortunately, a couple of external events beyond Lem's control intrude upon his peaceful, easy feeling. Soon his brain goes into overdrive and all the old woes and grievances begin to churn.Work. Wife. Kids. Parents. Money. Materialism. It's all fodder now. All that mental flotsam swishing around in that fatty organ between his ears, creating consternation and disquietude.What's a guy to do?simpson-books.com
Bull's a heck of a high school athlete. Big, strong, and fast. He loves to play the games. But he's not so keen on the competition. On the winning and losing.Bull has a dream. He dreams of a world without rancor. A world where cooperation, not competition, rules the roost. A world in harmony.They tell Bull he's crazy. Out of his gourd. Man, they tell him, is a competitive beast, aggressive and barbaric. Still, Bull holds out hope.simpson-books.com
When G Otterbein moves in next door, the MacLeod boys are quite certain he is either Gestapo, SS, or a concentration camp guard. Their father landed on Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944. Over the next year he battled the Nazis and helped liberate the death camps. He has no love for Germans. And he has passed his hatred on to his boys.How's it going to work out in this tranquil New Jersey suburb?simpson-books.com
The Judge's daughter has been raped. Or so she says. The Judge is aghast. Appalled. Angry.And even more so when he finds out the rapist was... my God... Black.His Anger turns to Alarm when she tells him she's... pregnant!"Good Lord!" shouts the Great Defender of the Womb. "This... this cannot stand!"simpson-books.com
Every day she thinks about doing it. And every day she doesn't do it.She wants to do it, or at least she thinks she does, but still she doesn't do it.She wants to do this and do that, go here and go there, but desire so rarely leads to action.What is Life? What's it for? What are we supposed to do with it? Is it anything more than the Random Thoughts in our Heads?simpson-books.com
Mac's on vacation. On spring break. With his wife and teenage kids. They drove down to Duck on the Outer Banks. For a week of sun and fun.Mac is not happy. Mac dislikes vacations. Hates sitting around on his duff. But he has to tow the line. Can't irritate the wife. Can't ruin it for the others. Has to put a smile on his face.The days grind on. Mac starts to ruminate. Recalls his spring break to Key West back when he was a senior in high school. Sloppy Joe's. Captain Tony's Saloon. Mallory Square. Booze and dope. The old Hemingway House. A Spring Break to remember.simpson-books.com
Crumb and Fuse drive home late from a boozy party in Crumb's 911. They spot a raccoon crossing the road. Crumb swerves and goes out of his way to run over the coon. Leaves it dead in the middle of the road.The act sets off a confrontation between the two men. Fuse demands to know why Crumb killed the raccoon. They argue and taunt one another. Fire off wisecracks and insults. It's a philosophical melee. All while that 911 races faster and faster down the twisty mountain road. Is that old coon gonna be the only casualty tonight?It's a beautiful triangle: Booze, men, and their egos. simpson-books.com
All's well at the local parish. At least on the surface. Father Joseph and Nathaniel's parents sit in the priest's office and have a nice little chat. They discuss the upcoming pancake breakfast, the flower show to raise money for the local orphanage, and next Sunday's sermon on assisting the poor and the persecuted.Father Joseph has an engaging smile and an easy laugh. He is very popular among his parishioners. Unfortunately, Joe is a very sick pup. simpson-books.com
Pete's a podiatrist. Pete does feet. Pete had a whole slew of podiatry clinics in and around Syracuse, NY. Until Covid hit in 2020. And people with bad feet stopped coming to see him. Pete went bust. Belly up. Had to declare bankruptcy. And the only podiatry job Pete could find was with the New York State Department of Corrections. Now Pete does the inmates' feet. Every Friday Pete gets to visit Sing Sing in Ossining-on-the-Husdon, the maximum security prison housing a wide array of violent characters including rapists, pedophiles, arsonists, hitmen, cannibals, and serial murderers. It's a tough job but somebody has to do it. simpson-books.com
For years, decades, Big Al spent enormous amounts of time and money shopping and consuming, buying no end of crapola he didn't need and often didn't really even want. But consuming was an addiction. Al coveted a wide array of products and services large and small. It was a never-ending compulsion. A kind of enslavement. He would buy a new thousand dollar iPhone and just hours later be on his computer checking out the latest and greatest 85 inch Samsung flat screen.Eventually Al became fed up with this vicious cycle. He broke his addiction. He vowed to become an anti-consumer, to buy only those goods and services that were 100% essential.And for a couple years Al succeeded. He was happy. Calm. Content. He steered clear of TV and on-line ads and lived in a nice peaceful bubble.Until one day, while watching Yellowstone, he spotted Kevin Costner wearing the absolutely coolest cowboy hat. A Stetson. And Al knew, with all his heart and soul, that he needed one of those dang hats. Had to have one. Pronto. simpson-books.com
Bill Monroe, a local businessman, owes Patrolman Dick Benson ten grand. Has owed the police officer ten grand for nearly two years. Dick wants his dough. And more than wants it, Dick needs it. For his family. For his wife and daughter.Dick's at wit's end on how to collect. On several occasions he has begged and pleaded with Monroe to fork over the cash. All this begging and pleasing to no avail.For months Dick has been hatching a plot in his head. He knows it's a crazy-ass scheme, got desperation written all over it. But hey, a man has to do it what he has to do. He can't be letting people push him around. This is America, after all. A man is entitled to what's his. So, tonight's the night.simpson-books.com
Nan is a hotshot divorce attorney. No holds barred. Anything for victory. Just today she crushed a billionaire hedge funder with pics of illicit sex with minors. Won her client at least fifty mil. She'll take a nice chunk of the settlement. Buy that place she's been coveting on St. Bart's. Now she's on her way home to her mountaintop estate in her posh Cadillac Escalade. Nan's going to draw a hot bath, mix herself an ice-cold martini, and wash away the rigors of the day. But wait, who's the dude dressed all in black rolling under her garage door just as the door rolls closed? simpson-books.com
Liam works for AAPT (Animals Are People Too). It's a tough job, as daily he has to make sure livestock animals are being treated humanely before destruction. Prior to this employment, Liam worked as a deckhand on freighters that circled the globe. He led a wild, carefree life, boozing and whoring his way from Boston to Bangkok to Buenos Aires. Until that day on the Black Sea off the coast of Romania... simpson-books.com
We have a couple boys here, men actually, dealing with some personal issues, when out of the blue they dang near slam their large vehicles into one another. Gonna be hell to pay if they don't calm down and pull themselves together. But can they do it? What with one dude dealing with a cheating spouse and the other dude recently off his meds without his doc's knowledge. One guy with a rebellious teenager and the other guy with an ex-wife who took his teenagers clear across the country.These boys are on edge.Kids. Wives. Work. Life for crying out loud. A volatile mix. One that can, in a heartbeat, blow up into some serious Road Rage.simpson-books.com
This is the mostly true story of the short unhappy life of Constance Sillence. It's a sad, devastating story, but unfortunately all too common in the annals of human history. It's Biblical in its simplicity of birth, suffering, and death. A quick review of First Timothy Chapter Two Verses 9 thru 14 will assist the reader (listener) in grasping the plight of Constance and so many of her sisters. simpson-books.com
Every evening Sock and various companions meet at the park to go for a walk and discourse on a variety of lofty topics. Art. Religion. The Meaning of Life. On this particular evening, cold and blustery, it appears it will only be Sock and his faithful hound Sally. But just as they set off, a young woman appears and together the trio ambles up Lyceum Hill. Soon talk turns to Camus' Four Conditions for Happiness. These conditions—live as much as possible in the open air, abandon ambition, love lustfully, and live creatively—are discussed with great enthusiasm. But suddenly this newest member of The Walking Philosopher's Club bids her farewell and vanishes into thin air. Was she ever really on the walk? Or had Sock conjured her up in his imagination? Does it matter? Does such a phenomenon as reality even exist? Join the walk and see what you think. simpson-books.com
After years of Talk Therapy Tad finally has a breakthrough. He finally spits out the Truth. Finally utters the unutterable. But is his Shrink listening? Or has his Shrink checked out of the Game, consumed as he is by his own angsts and anxieties, his own dreams and desires?SHRUNK asks those old Socratic questions: Do our fellow humans hear a word we say? Or does all the gibberish just fall on deaf ears?Was it, me wonders, a giant cosmic joke to allow Humans to Communicate with all these silly little utterances that spill from our mouths?simpson-books.com
Stu's up in his hilltop mansion cradling his AK-15 assault rifle. He's waiting for the barbarians. Waiting for the blacks. And the immigrants. And the mouthy women. Waiting for The End.While Stu waits he remembers. Grows nostalgic. Longs to revisit the glory days of his youth when, fresh out of college, he lived free as a bird for a couple years out on the open road. Free of possessions. Free of responsibilities. Free of attitudes. Free of hate.Stu hears them. Coming up through the woods. He sees them racing across the manicured lawn. Over the wall and up onto the patio. A lawn chair crashes through the picture window.They're coming Stu. They're coming to get you!simpson-books.com
Bob's been coaching high school hoops for a lot of years. But he's never seen a referee like this dude. A giant. At least 6'3". 230. All muscled up. Bald as a billiard ball. And tats covering most of his body. On his right arm a tat of a nearly naked glamour queen. On his left arm a tat of a bird cage with an open door and three birds making their escape. On his right thigh an American flag. On his left thigh an M27 Infantry Rifle.The game gets underway. The ref runs the show with military precision. No nonsense.In the third quarter the power goes out and the lights go off. During the outage Bob learns a thing or two about the ref's combat tour in Iraq.simpson-books.com
No photos of the graveyard in the Airbnb listing. Plenty of pics of the lovely cottage on the Maine coast and the spectacular view of the Atlantic from the front porch. But no shots or mention of the ancient cemetery right next door.The Smiths arrive after dark. And so first notice the graveyard in the morning. Soon thereafter the family hound goes exploring among the headstones, frantic with all the new scents.Young Jack Smith and his dad hike over to retrieve their hound. They find gravestones dating back to the 1700s and 1800s. And then Jack spots a stone with his name on it: Jack SmithBorn July 4, 1910Died July 4, 1920Age Ten YearsJack will be ten years old the following day: July 4, 2020. He's 100% certain the gravestone is a harbinger of his death and that he is going to die on his birthday.His father reassures him, but that night he falls ill with fever and a bellyache.
When the IED exploded and ripped through the Humvee, PFC Walker, on his very first patrol, survived, but with his brain scrambled. So now he walks. Walks and walks. Seven days a week. Seven miles to the Walker family toy store. Where he recreates, with toy soldiers, the Battle of Antietam.PFC Walker—another victim of The War.Any War.Every War.
Larry has it in for Coach Rizzo, his old Little League coach who some years ago mocked and belittled his inferior baseball skills. Larry's ready to take his revenge.He's right now out in the woods beyond the centerfield fence. In a deer blind high up in an ancient oak. It's a beautiful spring morning. Opening Day of a brand new baseball season. The sun is shining. The grass is green. The boys are ready to play ball.Too bad Larry, like crazy armed nut-jobs from sea to shining sea, possesses a Bushmaster XM-15 with a Vortex Spitfire scope and plenty of ammo.Unless sanity suddenly intervenes, unlikely, prepare for more American carnage.
He's made his dough. Occupied the corner office. Traveled the world. Bought the beach house and the fishing boat and the snazzy fleet of cars.Too bad he hasn't been able to escape the past. The war. The damn war. The dead soldiers under his command.He sees and hears the explosion a thousand or more times a day. Half a million times a year. For over thirty years. He's tried booze, dope, whores, and no end of other reckless behaviors to blind and silence the relentless explosions. All to no avail. Is there another way out?
Reverend Johnson used to be a believer. He had faith. In God. In Jesus.Reverend Johnson used to run out of gas. And every time he ran out of gas, someone in need of God, in need of Jesus, would come to his assistance.In this way the Reverend added many new parishioners to his congregation. He believed absolutely it was God Himself who ran his little British sports car out of gas.He believed this until that day the woman he asked for help was not in need of God, was not in need of Jesus, but was, in fact, in need of something far more temporal, far more... earthly. On that day the Reverend lost his faith but found other pleasures.And now, well, now Reverend Johnson has found a way, as humans so aptly do, to justify his carnal delights while once again pledging his faith to God. And to Jesus.
Not so long ago Bev was the proverbial footloose and fancy free. A single woman, happy and wild. Then 30 hit, maternal hormones raged, Mom wanted grandchildren, and here we are. With hubby in the suburbs and four kids under three. 4 under 3! Yikes! Molly, the oldest, is 3 today. It's her birthday. Bev's up and at it even earlier than usual, in the grand hope of getting the birthday cupcakes baked and iced. It's touch and go. Those cupcakes may not happen.The kids are waking up. Tom's showered and shaved and ready to off to the office. Bev will soon be on her own, four on one, for the next twelve hours.Will she make it? Survive the gauntlet? Hard to say. She's already at wit's end. And the day has just begun.
Abortion is a hot topic these days. And for good reason what with a cadre of cloistered dudes in black robes and their evangelical little sister telling women from sea to shining sea what they can and can't do with their bodies. The Smites have dough. A large portfolio. A duplex on Central Park West. A 'cottage' in the Hamptons. And an almost desperate need to travel. During the height of the Covid scare in the late summer of 2020 they decide to take a little trip to the Bahamas. Eleuthera. Exuma. And now the Smites are on their way to Bimini. On an Island Airways puddle jumper suddenly caught in a ferocious thunderstorm. It could be curtains for the Smites and their cocky young Bahamian pilot.While up at MIT their only child, David, works eighteen hours a day on his messenger RNA research in the hope of finding a vaccine for the dreaded virus. As Mark Twain prefaced in Huck Finn: Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot will be shot.
Eddie didn't feel like going back to college after Christmas break. Just sick of it, you know. The books. The classes. The uppity know-it-all profs lecturing him on every subject under the sun.Well, a month or so goes by wherein Ed stays out late and sleeps till noon before the old man reads him the riot act: Get a job, go back to school, or hit the road.Ed finds the cushiest job on planet earth: plant waterer. At Flo's Florist. He can get high, play some tunes, and water away. Easy as pie.Till the day Benjamin the delivery guy gets sick and Flo tells Eddie he has to drive and deliver.And that day just happens to be Valentine's Day. The busiest day of the year in the flower biz. Ed doesn't make a dozen deliveries before the proverbial shit hits the fan.
He's a lefty. Throws hard. Possessed of a rising 100 mph fastball. Still an unknown kid but just signed a big fat MLB contract. Worth millions.She's the daughter of a tech billionaire. A wild thing. Really likes to have a good time. The crazier the better.She meets the Fastballer at a South Beach soiree and that same night recruits him for a trip to Greece to attend a fancy destination wedding. What could possibly go wrong?
It can be tough in bed. In the middle of the night. A long, dark winter's night. The brain gets rolling. Lying there between the sheets, winds that don't get a thought during the day blow up into tornados.He's known loneliness. Who hasn't? Knew it as a kid when his older sibs left the nest. Knew it in college freshman year without a bud in sight. Knew it well when he traveled solo to the far corners of the earth.But he didn't expect to feel the emotion now. Not married with three daughters. A crazy, chaotic life. Busy busy all the time. But here she blows, roiling around in his head at three o'clock in the morning.
A quarter of a century ago he penned a critically acclaimed bestseller. Hollywood even made a movie out of the novel starring Al Pacino. The success of the book helped him earn tenure at the university where he taught literature and writing.Tenure put him on easy street.Or did it?He's been working on his second novel for twenty-five years! In that time he has bored his wife and his pals half to death. She fled for the hills years ago and they beeline in the other direction when he comes into view.No matter. He will not be deterred. He is 100% certain God, or some other purveyor of Providence, wants him to carry on. Wants him to keep scribbling. Wants him to finish this magnificent Magnum Opus. This work, he believes, is his Destiny. It is all the evidence he needs to know his life has Meaning.So what a bummer when a wind storm brings it all crashing down.
Maybe a little too much partying at his bud's wedding. Too much booze. Too much grass. Too many pills. And now this crazy chick who jumped in his car when the cops whirled in and chased everyone off.She's blitzed. Practically comatose. Must've consumed too much of something. Entirely incoherent.Too drunk to drive, he pulls into an old, abandoned motel. Carries the unconscious girl across the threshold of Room 6. Where things do not go well. Where things go very badly.It's not the illegal drugs; it's the prescription meds. Not an easy story to hear but one all too familiar in these United States of Drug & Alcohol Abuse.
Stan and Ollie are neighbors. Friendly but not really friends.Stan has a wife, three kids, a couple businesses. He's a busy guy, high strung, stressed out. And now this broken bone in his left foot has him hobbled.Ollie's divorced, two grown kids who live out of state. Ollie's a good guy, a lonely guy. Ollie and Stan's wife Patty often walk their dogs together. Long walks. In the hills. Now something has developed between Ollie and Patty.Or has it?Life's a capricious journey fraught with many wild twists and turns. Stan and Ollie and Stan's fifth metatarsal are right now twisting and turning in the wind. Take a listen and see how it plays out.
Dan wants an eye for an eye. They violated his daughter and he wants revenge. Sure, he'd been a frat boy, done his share of drinking and carousing. But it was different then. Better, he feels sure. More innocent. They didn't slip mickeys into the girls' drinks. Dan's memory of his college days might be a tad murky and a touch selective, but he knows what he knows, and he knows the names of the boys who violated his daughter. And for these violations they are about to pay.
John Adams is a hard luck guy. No parents. No siblings. No diplomas. No girlfriend. No prospects. Everywhere he turns it's just more pain and suffering. Until one day, out of the blue, in the emergency room of all places, when things just can't possibly get any worse, a stroke of good luck.And then a string of good luck. And a bundle of Bounty.
He's got a cushy job with the old man's construction company. Record keeper for a big Port Authority job at the passenger ship terminals on the Hudson. Plenty of time to do his two favorite things: Read & Write. He has some heavy ambitions itching at his craw. Wants to be a novelist. Of import. A Twain. A Melville. A Marquez. But can he withstand the pressures? Family pressures. Peer pressures. Financial pressures. The Twins Pressures of Desire & Consumption. It's a tall order. A tough task. He claims he'd rather be dead than give in to these pressures. Let's see how he makes out.Listen to it now: DEAD GUYS DON'T WRITE
Baby Kane has escaped from the back yard. He is crawling up the railroad embankment at the same moment the Union Pacific rolls west across the New Mexico desert. Will Baby Kane get splattered by the lead locomotive? If he manages to stay off the tracks, what about the venomous rattlesnake that's just had its rattle severed by the fleeing caboose? Will that sidewinder nail Baby Kane if not the train? Mom and Dad, Erin and Adam, are busy with their new biz, Land of Enchantment Adult Gifts and Novelties. They don't know their boy's in jeopardy. They don't know what evils lurk.
We once again interrupt our short short stories to bring you thoughts from the war in Ukraine. SPRINGBREAKorThis is the Way Artists See the WorldAn Absurd and Utterly Divine Tragedy in Three Brief Acts 1.PURGATORYDriving south down theDelmarva Peninsula onSpringBreakNews on theRadio out ofMariupol GhastlyBarbaricWomen andChildrenBeatenBloodiedRapedTortured andMurdered byPutin'sButchers not aWar not Armies Battling for position andProperty andPrestige justButcherySavagery a deviantLeader's Insanity and a once greatNation'sInhumanity2.PARADISOLying in the softCarolinaGrass OceanWaves breaking beyond theKitty HawkDunes overhead the branches of anAtlantic whiteCedar heavy with pineCones theSun filtering through the thin Needles a brightYellowButterfly flutters past carrying on its fragileWings peace andQuiet while theKids grow older and hopefully moreGrateful moreAware of the smallHarmonies and displays ofAffection so vital toFamilial goodHealth aware I am that it wasLove after all that delivered us into thisWorld notHate notSavagery notTreachery butLove all this IMeditate on just before I firstHear and thenSeeBlasting across theClearBlueSky a formation ofF-15ScreamingEagles out ofLangley ready toKill3.INFERNODriving north now headingHomeLunch at a NorfolkDiner all of us a tadDroopy after so muchSun andFun and goodFood I first see and thenHear twoFlyboys in theirAirForceBlues one says to theOther Old JoeyB gives theGreenLightPal lets meLoose I'llBomb those f***ingRussianCommies and their littleFatBoyPutin back to the f***ingStoneAge
Boys and GirlsMen and WomenLike:Oil and WaterSalt and PepperDark and LightAtlantic and PacificAllan and Lexi have a couple of small problems that demand their attention. They've come to the City Diner at dusk on the shortest day of the year to discuss their two little problems and see if they can work things out.If you're interested and you would care to eavesdrop, just hit play, close your eyes, sit back, and relax.
Tommy and his dad Lou always get their haircuts together on Saturday mornings. But this Saturday Dad tells Tommy to go on in and get his haircut all by himself. Lou tells his boy it's a rite of passage. To Manhood. But Tommy senses something's up. Something's not quite right. Something's wrong. Dad insists it's no big thing. Tommy feels the earth quake. But he does what his father tells him. He climbs out of the Bel Air and, body trembling, walks through the door of Lenny's Barbershop all by his ten-year-old lonesome.
Stud Macintyre loves the ladies. So when an exceptionally beautiful young lady shows up on a Harley for the Sunday morning canyon ride, Stud is all a-lather. He right away hits on the gorgeous girl on the Harley Sportster 883. She succumbs immediately to his masculine charms. They go to dinner. Then back to her place. She is Stud's fantasy come true. Only one minor hiccup...
We interrupt our regularly scheduled short story podcast with this poem to the people of Ukraine. The congregation of the Peapack Reformed Church in Gladstone, NJ wants to help the people of this war-ravaged country. The website below has been set up to send badly needed medical supplies to Ukraine. In many parts of the country the situation deteriorates daily. Please help if able. https://amzn.to/3i8RUnpUkraineOh UkraineAmerica weeps for youWhile russianBombsRainDown upon yourMothers andChildrenUkraineOh Ukraine yourLives will never be theSameVictimized by anotherLost andLonely Despot gone entirelyInsaneYourBloodied mothersPlead and yourWoundedChildren scream whileTotalitarian tanks withoutDignity orHumanityCrush yourDemocratic dreamUkraineOh UkraineWe pray to aMercifulGod yourStruggles will not be inVain and yourSuffering at the hands ofTyrants willSoon be on theWane
Life is good for the plantation owner, his wife, and their five lovely daughters. Life is a lark. A frolic. An Independence Day picnic at the swanky plantation down the road. A blissful carriage ride home beneath the towering Chinese elms billowing with Spanish Moss. But wait. What is that? Up ahead. Hanging from the thick limb of that yonder Chinese elm. Is it? Oh my God! It is. A man! Lynched! Independence Day: Gone with the Wind, with a twist. Not for the squeamish or the faint of heart.
Widowed, she has come alone to the sea from the flatlands of Illinois. She has come with hope and expectation. But soon, like the story of her life, hope and expectation dissolve into quiet bitterness. She decides it might be best to simply wade into the waves and let the vast ocean carry her, and her precious cello, away.