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TWJ – A Night at Baileys….and other Stories…

There is still time to read (and vote if you like) for short story/poems in the current issue of the Texas Writers Journal.  My story is A Night at Bailey’s Grocery, and here is a small sample… Happy Holiday Season, Everyone!

Sitting in Tracy’s 1973 Vega in front of Bailey’s Grocery Store on a warm October night, we were waiting, like two eagles plucked down in the middle of the Farm Plex to scout for an incoming bus. Not just any bus – the bus that was gonna take Barry Manilow, the Man Who Writes the Songs through our dinky, little town.

Classic Convertible Sports Car

 

“I don’t know, Tracy, really the Halloween carnival wasn’t as bad as I thought,” I said.

“Yeah, it was,” she retorted, fishing for her cherry lip gloss.

The problem was, I wasn’t a Barry Manilow fan, I was way more hip than that. My motto was bring on Aerosmith, Ted Nugent or Peter Frampton. Well at least the Bee Gees anyway. Oh sure, I had spent some time running around humming Mandy, pulling for her to go back and give Barry another chance. She was so unselfish and all that, but I had well been on my way to Rock ‘n Roll, and I preferred to hear Steven Tyler scream to me about Dreaming than listening to Barry moan.

The problem was that there wasn’t much to do in Munville, Texas in the 70s and probably not much to do at any time in the past either, come to think of it.

“I can’t believe Danny Jones, he was so, so….”

“Animated,” Tracy broke in.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said.

“Oh he’s a pretty good actor if you can draw him out, of his shell, in fact, they all did okay with the haunted house,” said Tracy.

Danny Jones was a perfect kid, never got into trouble, in fact, he was probably the most pristine out of all the church kids that were putting on the haunted house.

“Who was that in with Jimmy Phitts?” asked Tracy.

My eyes strained after the car now in the distance: “I’m not sure,” I answered.

“Oh,” said Tracy.

Not too many people out tonight for a Saturday, there was a dance out at nearby Rhoneville, and that’s where most of the high school kids went to meet others who lived out of town.

“So are you sure Barry is coming?” I asked.

“Of course, he is on his way to Abilene and this is the only way through,” Tracy said.

I sighed. A habit I had gotten into way too early to express my constant boredom of life, and boy was it ever boring here in Munville, Texas. Another car went by….

 

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