Saturday, November 1, 2014

A Parlay With The Lord

Now, y'all know 'bout Mirko, right? Called him Butch, most of the time. Boy used to rent a room right there, above Ms. Rosy's general store. Did his drinkin' like it ain't wasn't nobody's business Butch did, but gentle too, you know? Never hurt a fly. Could've if he wanted to, though. Big guy. Arms like this. Came back from the war and never was quite right again, boy used to come down to church e'rry Sundy and cry like a baby when Pastor Brown'd go on all 'bout Hell and sinnin' and repentin' in the face of the Lord. Think Old Butch knew more 'bout hell than the preacherman ever did, though. Came a Sundy Butch shot hisself in the head two times. Wanted a parlay with the Lord so bad, doughboy had the wherewhital to squeeze the trigger twice, you know? Yeah, wasn't much 'bout Hell old Butch didn't know 'bout, I reckon. Think on that a bit now. Think on that a good long while before y'all go callin' to bomb Bhagdad or Iraq or some faraway forrin place like that. Ain't no such thing as takin' a war over there, that some poor boy ain't gonna bring right back over here.

1 comment: