Fiction: The Library Patron

Doris Padmore had used the word “dapper” only loosely until Arthur Wyndham first walked into the library. Now, she knew, she was seeing the real thing.

He was slender and stood about 5 feet, 9 inches tall. His hair and moustache, both neatly trimmed, were a rich gray. He wore a brown necktie with his fine three-piece suit of tweed. He removed his coordinating summer fedora upon entering the library. His black wing tips were well, but not slavishly, polished. He wanted only an umbrella or a spaniel to be the very picture of an English gentleman.

Or, Mrs. Padmore thought, a refugee from a time when dressing nicely to go into public view wasn’t considered declasse.
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Fiction: The Tavern

He was a good-looking man, and young; only the limp and the cane explained why he wasn’t in uniform.

He carefully maneuvered himself between a few tables and hitched himself up on a barstool. “Lager, bitte,” he told the barmaid.

She drew his beer and set it in front of him. “So where are you from, mein Herr, and what brings you to our little village?”

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Fiction: One Big Joke

A man is at his lawyer’s office. The lawyer says, “Geoff, this is your third divorce. This is stupid. Tell you what you do: just go out every five or six years, find a woman you can’t stand and buy her a house.”

🙂

A kid comes up on a man’s porch. “Say, mister, did you see the truck that hit your dog?”
“No!”
“Neither did your dog.”

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Creative Commons: License to Thrill

One day, perhaps soon, this post will be considered quaint. I’m writing it for those who don’t know what the Creative Commons license on the About page means. I’m writing it for those who don’t yet understand why I’m putting my creative genius (silence, there, in the peanut gallery!) on the Web for all to see, making no money and apparently inviting others to simply take what’s here.

There’s lots more explanation to be had than I’m going to offer. Just toddle over to the Creative Commons Web site and you can learn all you ever hoped to and then some. My focus here is on what it means to thee and me.

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Fiction: Papal Bull

Not recently, Carmine, a white and tan cat, woke especially early and spent the morning in prayer, punctuated by the occasional quick glance at where his tail should have been.

When he felt as prepared for his journey as any cat has ever felt, he slipped away from the barnyard and wandered down the dirt road toward the port.

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