“You better come get me,” George mumbled into the phone when his wife Connie answered brightly on the third ring . . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
Eammon Doyle wrapped his fist on the bar. “This is Col. James Kelleher, Jungle Jim to his friends. He’s just back from Belfast. I know some of you lads are thinking of joining the fight, so I asked him to talk to you.” . . .
The sun crept over the horizon as Danny Noonan continued to have sex with Tammy Hayes. His heart beat faster with each thrust . . .
A liquid light cleanses the air, splashes mirrors across the passing car windows. Here she comes, obesity incarnate, à la Samantha, trudging along oblivious to the sun puddles on the sidewalk . . .
It all started with that damned umbrella . . .
You had terminal, aggressive cancer this time, and today was the day you died from it at home . . .
Her message said eight and so I was there eight sharp like a good little lapdog. Marla had a way of reaching inside of me and ripping out my backbone . . .
It had been two years since I had a drink, and life was looking up. I was in Cuernavaca, Mexico, taking care of my grandfather. . .