Page 29
By Jack Joseph Smith
The night could get like white ivory with the litteral speed?
John was bone rough, and knew his family was a polo game as a
brain function? He could not explain the race he had already done
except for the flying hair. His forehead, eyes and mouth were tight
when he made the wind. Gibbons was always worried, but they would
be alright because they were look alikes?
Harry finished eating and went walking alone to see a young man
named Hanch who's parents were always in Spain. Hanch was robbing
banks on a drafting table and pissed off about the collord maid
sweeping out the best burbon with the dust when Harry walked into
the library.
"Thought you were headed for the lower-Ohio Harry?"
"John had already finished off his bottle Hanch."
"It's been one old hell of a tuesday Harry."
"Life's short as a leach."
"Now according to my family's..."
"Let's fuck your family for now with a grin."
Hanch went immediately to the southern whiskey alone the shelf.
All the movies of Earl Flim and a fine track record were in him.
"The real reason that my mother is such a bitch is that she believes
in life after death."
He took a curved glass to Harry. Harry handled it and then dropped
back to a chair to slump back. Hanch poured.
"Your doubts are indescribeable Harry. Why is Gibbons in the black car?"
"Murf pulled out in the green. Gibbons went into the black. I ate eggs."