So, I’m relaxing in the house the other evening when there’s a knock at the door. I answer:
and I can’t believe it. It’s Russell:
Russell!
What. The. Hell?
So I give him the fish eye:
He gives me the fish eye back:
Okay, that’s the way you want it? Time for the heavy artillery.
Devil eye!
He retaliates:
But you can see who got the better of this contest:
Just stay out there, loser:
In Waythehelloutthere Virginia, there’s this little church:
Timber Ridge Primitive Baptist, with this little cemetery:
where some of the first settlers in the Shenandoah Valley were laid to rest, such as the Coe’s, Revolutionary War veterans and pioneers:
The unfortunately named Craven Coe, who “would not live always.”
Tough living up here in the ridges, as the Phillips show:
Mother Phillips lost her infant daughter, then her child, then her husband, and spent thirty-four years alone, before joining them.
Like the Hollidays. Elizabeth, who lost her Harry:
And Myrtle, who lost her Jack:
and then her boys:
Larry Brannon awaits his Ruella:
while he plays with children well before him:
In a quiet place to do so.
Just this past November, a beautiful, mild day in Ft. Valley, near Strasburg, Virginia:
Okay, back to winter…
I either (a) lost a bet or (b) won a short story contest. To find out which, go here: http://bksp.org/
Brr. That’s all I can say.
I mean, just a couple of weeks ago, it was like this:
I was loving it:
But now:
Russell and the wild’uns have been pointing out to me that, before I got this D. Krauss gig, I, as a Wander Cat, had no trouble with winter. Find a place to burrow under the deck or between the bushes, chase down some of the field mice, good to go. So, yeah, okay,
I gave it a shot:
For. Get. It.
I’ve got better places to spend the winter:
Russell and the wild’uns can go pound sand.
A story of mine made it into a new anthology:
The trains arrived here and offloaded: 
You were marched through here: 
because Arbeit Macht Frei, as it still says on the ironworks.
Here you were separated: 
If you were sent to the right, you got a bunk:
and a communal bathroom:
in one of the barracks, of which only the foundations are left: 
If you were sent to the left, then you marched down this pleasant, linden-lined boulevard:
to this building:
where you were stripped naked preparatory to a shower:
of Cyklon B:
They stacked your body here:
Burned it here:
and disposed of your ashes here:
In Ulm, you don’t go to the bar, the bar comes to you.
https://www.dropbox.com/s/kkwdnb7wl1nam0w/2013-10-05%2008.52.12.avi
Ulm.
The Blue, from a shop window located next to it:
The tallest steeple in the world:
I thought Ulm was on the Danube, but my sister said it was on the Donau. Or Doner. Or something like that:
One tipsy step, and the Blue is sweeping you into the Danube. Or Donau. Doner. Whatever:
Man.
This Russell issue is getting out of hand. I mean, look at the guy, sittin’ out there like he owns the place:
He’s really gettin’ on my nerves: 
So off I went to see the Wild-uns over there in the woods. They gave me the usual crap about being a sell out and going all soft and yeah, yeah, shut up, let’s get down to business: ten bucks and a can of tuna to do something about Russell. Steep, but what else could I do? Gettin’ the ten bucks wasn’t that hard and you should have heard that Krauss guy running around the house accusing everyone of raiding his wallet. Don’t leave it on the nightstand, idiot. Gettin’ the tuna can out of the cupboard and rolling it across the street was much tougher but you do what you gotta do. The Wild’uns thanked me and said, tonight.
So, about 9 o’clock, Russell is out there on the street washing his face or something when who shows up?
Mittens, the baddest of all the Wild’uns. I once saw him take on a Shih Tzu and a dachsund at the same time and beat them both.
Russell is toast!
Mittens says something about Russell’s Mom (who he says is my Mom, too, but I don’t see it), and Russell doesn’t like it:
Next thing I know, the two of them are out there in the woods having at it. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I sure could hear it (turn it up loud!):
Oh, man! Russell is toast!
So, next day, I’m out on the lawn feeling pretty good: 
When I hear some noise and look over at the bushes and there:
Russell. Unscathed. “Nice try,” he says, and walks away.
Should get that can of tuna back.