The next few days were a furious blur of paint and dust and alcohol. Jeff, Romen, and Bryan worked more on the rehab property painting more of the house and laying down tile in what would later become the kitchen. Each day of labor Continue reading
When Bryan awoke the following morning he had a slight hangover. Nothin’ he ain’t dealt with before, he was a sailor, so he knows how to drink. Making a quick breakfast of oatmeal and Earl Gray tea, Bryan thought back to a thought he had last night amidst the inebriated pool game. Get a tattoo, Bryan mused to himself. I think it’s time to get my Compass.
Bryan had long wanted to get a compass tattoo on his left forearm Continue reading
Leaving the Citgo station our favorite Nomad resumes walking on the southbound road. He decides that he really just wants to walk for a while. The weight of his rucksack starts digging into his hips, pressing thin, hard metal carabineers into his soft, squishy skin. Bryan knows that this is happening because he refuses to adjust his bags. You see, Einstein thought it might be a brilliant idea to wear a belt under a belt attached to a belt. Huh? Continue reading
In the words of Cowboy Beebop…
“I think it’s time to blow this scene.
Get everybody and the stuff together…
OK. 3. 2. 1. Let’s Jam.”
Ladies and Germs… it begins. (And is written in the narrative third person for fun.)
After being dropped off at a truck stop in Mortons Gap KY, Continue reading