 |
BUCKSHOT & BALONEY
From Sullivan's Short Stories
.............................................................................................Two stories on this page..........................................
BUCKSHOT
By Donald Sullivan
Jacob Whitley parked his pickup in front of Stella's Cafe. He'd been out of town for a couple of days visiting his father in the Oak City General Hospital, and before going on out to the farm, he decided to stop in Stella's cafe for a hot cup of coffee and a sandwich. It was past dinner time, and he didn't want to trouble his wife to fix him a meal at this late hour.
He entered the cafe, sat down at the counter, and placed his order. Joe Johnson, a friend, entered the cafe and seated himself on the stool, next to Jacob.
"Hey, Jake, good to see you back. How's your dad?"
"Good as new. The operation went off without a problem. Good to be back. Anything happen while I was gone?"
"Afraid so, Jake. Got some bad news. Sure hate to be the one to tell you that ol' Buckshot was killed. I know how you loved that ol' dog."
Jacob choked back tears. "What happened to him. He was as healthy as could be when I left."
"He was trampled by the horses when they ran from the barn. Guess he couldn't get out of the way in time."
"How on Earth did that happen? The horses never got out of the barn before, except when we let 'em out."
"I reckon they panicked when the barn caught fire."
"What? The barn caught fire? How'd that happen?"
"Well, the wind must've carried sparks from your house when it burned down."
"My house...my house burned down?"
"Yep. Understand a lit cigarette was to blame."
"A cigarette? But neither me or my wife smokes...that can't be."
"It was that feller that was visiting your place, he was smoking in bed."
"Feller? What feller?"
"The one that ran off with your wife."
Jacob, stunned, looked at Joe through the tears in his eyes. He got up paid his bill, and started for the door.
"Hated to be the one to tell you the bad news, Jake," Joe called out.
"Thanks for tellin' me Joe." He choked up. "Poor ol' Buckshot. Best dog I ever had. Sure gonna miss him."
***THE END***
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
BALONEY
By Donald Sullivan
It was a cold, blustery day in early March. The lineman was strapped to the pole as he worked on the power lines. As he made his repairs, he noticed a little bird perched on a line nearby. The bird was shivering and seemed to be cold and hungry. The lineman felt sorry for the little creature.
The lineman checked his watch and noted that it was noon. He descended the pole to eat his lunch.
He thought of the poor little bird as he sat in the warm cab of the truck. He had one thermos of chicken soup, another with coffee, and a baloney sandwich. He decided to give part of his baloney sandwich to the little bird. He threw the scraps of baloney directly under the line where the bird was perched and climbed back up the pole to finish his work.
He watched as the bird flew down and ate the scraps of baloney. After finishing its meal, it flew back up to its perch on the line. The bird, now warm and sated, began to sing.
A hawk circling overhead heard the bird. The lineman was horrified as he watched it dive down, clutch the bird in its claws, and fly away.
The moral of this story: When you're full of baloney, keep your mouth shut!
***The End***
Comment on these stories? We appreciate your feedback. Thanks.
HOME PAGE
Send E-Mail to: dhsully@gmail.com
Copyright © 2009 Donald H Sullivan. All Rights Reserved