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This will be updated from time to time with a different story posted, so check back, but only from time to time.


I wrote this yesterday. Is it any good? No, not really. I’m currently exercizing my writer-guy mind, and sometimes you just gotta go with what’s coming out. So read, enjoy, and know that every writer (I don’t care who you are) doesn’t always write with a gilded tongue and a pen made of gold with a diamond point. Sometimes they write these kinds of things.

When a Penguin is a Duck

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“That’s precisely my point,” Horace told him.  “You don’t seem to understand much of anything.”

Eddie looked down at his coffee.  They were sitting in Horace’s kitchen, across from one another.  Who the hell names people Horace anymore? Eddie wondered.

“You say a lot of things without thinking the thought through,” Horace said.  “And when someone responds, you don’t know what they mean.  Like you were never paying attention in the first place.”

Eddie and Horace had been close friends for over twenty years.

“You know I respect you,” Eddie said.  “But sometimes, like now, I wonder why you decide to come down on me.”

“I’m not coming down on you.  I’m just telling you the way I see it.”  Horace drank some coffee.  “I respect you too.  I just question a lot of things about you.  I think you make a lot of rash decisions.  Like just outta the blue when you went to Texas.  No money, no prospects, no friends out that way.  I couldn’t help wondering what you were thinking.”

“I was hoping to get away from things for a while.”

Horace nodded.  “Yeah, that’s understandable.  Things had been rough for you.  Just seemed foolish, the way you handled it.”

“Yeah, in hindsight, I see that it was.”

“Too much hindsight, Eddie.  You want more coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“Too much hindsight, but like you’re a daydreamer in history class.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see things in hindsight, but don’t pay any attention to them.”

“Now you’re talking like an asshole, and making me feel like one.”

“Sorry, Ed, I’m not trying to do that.”

“What got this going anyway?”

“You said you didn’t understand what I meant by the grass is always greener.”

“I understood it.  I just didn’t understand why you related it to me.”

“You were talking about Alaska.”

“So?  Is it a crime to talk about Alaska?”

“Of course not.  But I know you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.  We’ve known each other twenty years, give or take.  You’re a very easy person to read.”

“Is that so?”

“I just know when you start talking that way, like you were talking about Alaska, you get something hooked in your craw, and in another month you’ll be in Anchorage or Fairbanks or something, and it’ll be Texas all over again.”

“I have no interest in Alaska.  It just came up with a friend and so I was talking about it.  I plan on staying here for a while.”

“Being a handyman?”

“Being a handyman.”

Horace nodded.  Eddie looked at his watch.

“I should get going.  Got some things I wanna do and I wanna take a shower first.”

“Yeah.  Got some stuff I should do today, too.”

“Thanks for having me over.”

“Anytime, Eddie, you know that.”


They stood up and shook hands.

“I’ll see you later, Eddie.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Horace took the coffee cups to the sink.  Eddie let himself out the front door and walked to his car.  He stood for a moment and thought about things.  Then he opened the car and reached into the back.  He closed the door and went back to the house, let himself back in.  Horace was still in the kitchen, washing dishes.  He glanced briefly over his shoulder then looked back at the sink.

“Forget something?”

Eddie tested the weight of the hammer, then brought it up and slammed it against the side of Horace’s head.  Horace collapsed, his body twitching.  Eddie dropped to one knee and smashed the hammer into his face.  Then he did it again.  Then again and again, and then Horace was a body with a bunch of blood and brains and skull shrapnel for a head.

Eddie stood up and let himself out.  He looked at the blood on his clothes and shrugged.  He went back to his car, tossed the hammer into the back, then drove home and took a shower.

Check back sometime! Maybe it’ll be a different story.