(Author’s note: I was unfortunately detained for a month handling the issues of a new roommate for the house. But, since the lease for the new roommates has been sent (and is being signed), I can get back to weekly posts! Here’s the latest!)
Ridin’ With The King
by Miles H. Rost
Leon hoist himself out from under the chassis of a 57′ Bel Air.
He loved to work on the old cars, and having his own shop was a point of pride for the young looking man.
Hearing the familiar dings of a customer pulling up, he walked out into the hot air and shielded his face.
He was looking into a 1977 Ford Mustang with Shelby-Cobra emblems. A 289 engine. Whoever this person was, they knew what they were doing.
“Can I help ya?”
“Can you look under the hood and see if I got a leak?”
(Author’s note: I am hoping, very soon, to be able to do longer stories like did a couple years ago. Biggest problem: Exhaustion after work. The job I do is mind-numbing. I come home, and I fall asleep. Doubly so on days when I exercise. So, here’s to hoping things work soon. In the meantime, here’s today’s fictioneers.)
“Dad, you’re only 51. You’re gonna die if you keep doing that.”
My cousin was berating her dad. He just finished scarfing down a triple monster cheeseburger, 2 hand pies, and a thick chocolate shake, all while lighting up an unfiltered cigarette.
He paused, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Lindsey, what do I do for a living?”
“You work at the mine.”
“And what do I mine for?”
“What’s another name for vermiculite?”
“And what does asbestos do?”
“Gives you lung cancer.”