Country Funeral

June 27, 2012 § 1 Comment

“Have you ever seen a ghost,” my friend asked.

We were having breakfast at Cafe Dewitt. I was on the banquette with my back to the fishtank. We were early so no one was seated nearby but they would have been intrigued.

“I haven’t seen one, though I have always wanted to,” I responded. “But I think I heard one once.”

So I told the story.  « Read the rest of this entry »

What Really Happened

June 21, 2012 § Leave a comment

This is so not a picture of Coyote, but it’s cool.
Coyote Reading a Candy Wrapper
North Central Washington Museum
Wenatchee, WA
1995, cast aluminum

“So how’s that novel coming?” Coyote inquired. Innocently. He was reading a newspaper, which I found quaint.

“Why does everyone have to ask me that?” I was counting stitches to figure out where I had dropped one.

“Oh, just curious, I guess.” He pushed his glasses back up a little way on his nose. If he had had a mob cap he would have borne a striking resemblance to the Wolf impersonating Grandmama. Or so it seemed to me in that moment.  « Read the rest of this entry »

Tribal Memory

June 15, 2012 § Leave a comment

A friend is writing about stories in her family that turn out, upon investigation, not to be true. That made me wonder if the stories in my family that I always accepted as Truth, might have happened some other way altogether. 

1. Seven (or was it nine) ancestors came over on the Mayflower. One of them was washed overboard by a wave and the next wave washed him back on.

« Read the rest of this entry »

Scary Stories

June 1, 2012 § 2 Comments

“I don’t know how Stephen King does it,” I said, looking up from my notebook.

“Does what?” Coyote asked. He was mixing a drink. I’m not sure what was in it but the bottle he was using had a faint green tinge. At least from where I was sitting.

“Keep writing all those scary stories that everybody loves so much,” I said, eyeing the bottle.

“Well, I didn’t think much of Cujo,” he said, looking through the liquor cabinet for something else.

“Oh?” I wondered why there was only one glass.

“Lacked subtlety,” he said, opening the fridge. “Do we have any limes?”  « Read the rest of this entry »

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