Monday, April 1, 2019
Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 11)
I slept in fear thinking all night long this could be my last night on this earth and wondered if I could possibly back out of this bet but knew I'd be the laughing stock and called a coward so I'm going to do this tomorrow regardless, I'm not a coward or a welcher. I got up half asleep and took a shower, the others were still soundly asleep. I turned on the television and the noise got the others up and moving, they hustled and bustled around and we all loaded up in the van and headed to the diner over in Milton and walked in for breakfast and there was ole Bobby, he was smiling from ear to ear, and I nodded his way and ordered my usual biscuits and gravy, and sat beside him.
"Well, you want to pay me now or wait until you die from the fall?" Bobby said laughing.
"Look we get paid today and after I get paid, we'll put the cash up with your friend, if I fall the cash is yours," I said shutting him up without any more fanfare.
I ate my breakfast in complete silence and knew today I would take it easy, no heavy lifting to drain my strength, my focus was doing this incredible feat that I knew I could finish without falling to my death as I watched the dust from the air escalate toward the Venetian blinds like some rapture of soulless particles.
"Hey, Little Joe, what's this deal I hear you gonna walk the tightrope across this bridge? Seegar inquired.
"Oh, it's nothing, I'm taking a day's pay from some local here after work," I countered back.
"Little Joe you be careful this bridge will take your life, watch your step," Seegar said in a comforting and worrying way.
"Seegar, do me a favor, don't tell Stingray," I responded that needed his self-assurance, confidence, and promise that he'll never utter a word to Stingray.
"I swear I won't but are you really going to do this?"
"I'm at a point of no return Seegar," I responded in a loud way.
"Good Luck Little Joe," Seegar said again with warmth and consideration.
11
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Herding Cretan milk goats and chanting Greek verses to poly gods, writers ascribe to the pastoral hymns of sorrow where time’s the thief...
-
Avoid distress; forlorn hope, threadbare of loneliness, even Icarus’ boldness, jubilation, and carelessness bedeviled his own ego. Tak...
-
We always played cards in the back of Squire's Bar and Grill, a little hole in the wall place. I lost that night at cards a...
-
Sitting in a death chair at the Cleveland Cancer Center whilst my body is being pumped with platinum grade-A poison. The six hours of...
No comments:
Post a Comment