the bed until he came to his senses .
“Where do we look?” said the Logan who had started the conversation. He was the brother who liked to read comic books. He was still staring at the cow. He was staring at the cow in the same way that he read comic books.
“It doesn’t make much difference where we look,” his stern brother answered, surrounded by America in every direction. “Just as long as we keep looking until we find the trophies.”
Finally, he was quiet on the bed in the hotel room. He was very quiet. “I’m OK,” he said, in a slow calm voice. “It’s all right now.”
Spaghetti bread tears
A forkful of spaghetti bread was halfway to Bob’s mouth moving along at a regular eating motion. One does not know how many miles per hour a fork travels when you are eating but his fork was moving at a nor mal speed when suddenly it slammed on its brakes in his hand and came to a screeching halt halfway to Bob’s mouth.
Tears slowly started ebbing from his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. He had started crying. The tears became low slow sobbing while the fork remained half way to his mouth with a bite of spaghetti bread resting precariously upon it.
“What is it?” Constance said, reaching over and taking the fork from Bob’s hand and putting it down on the plate in front of him.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
He didn’t say anything.
He just sat there continuing to cry.
Constance reached over and took his hand in her hand. “What is it, baby? Tell me what it is.”
Bob just keep crying.
Constance didn’t try to find out any more from him why he was crying. She continued holding his hand but she left him alone in his sorrow.
The plate of spaghetti bread looked silly in front of a grown man crying. Constance didn’t like to sit there holding his hand as he cried with that plate of stuff in front of them. It hurt her dignity and put Bob in a bad light, too.
She gently let go of Bob’s hand and reached over and picked up the plate of spaghetti bread and got up and took it over to the sink.
Then she returned to Bob’s hand again.
He cried for ten minutes.
Constance didn’t say anything more.
She waited for Bob to stop crying.
Kansas
The Logan brothers spent that night in Middle Fork nosing around but they couldn’t find any clues to why the house that the bowling trophies were supposed to be in wasn’t there.
Besides that, people looked at them as if they were a little crazy. “That’s a pasture out there,” an old-timer said to them, looking at them very carefully in the town bar. They waited for him to say something else about the pasture but that was it. The Logan brothers felt a little uncomfortable. They said thank you and tried to find somebody else who could help them.
The old man told the story many times about the three strangers asking if there was a house out there and he said, “ ‘No, that’s a pasture out there,’ and then you know what they said to me? They said thank you for me telling them what they had seen with their very own eyes.”
The old man always laughed when he finished telling the story about the three strangers who came into town looking for a house that was a pasture. “Yeah, they thanked me for telling them that,” and whomever he’d told the story to would laugh along with him.
“I just don’t know what the world’s coming to,” would be the final period at the end of the story.
The next day the Logan brothers left for Kansas. They had no reason to believe that the bowling trophies were in Kansas but they had to look some place and Kansas was just as good as any other place.
The Matthew Brady echo
Patricia and John were lying quietly beside each other in bed. They were very contented from their lovemaking. John had forgotten that he was tired and Patricia’s mind was drained of all passion like an empty swimming pool in the winter.
“Did you hear something in the other room?” Patricia said finally, after a long peaceful
“Where do we look?” said the Logan who had started the conversation. He was the brother who liked to read comic books. He was still staring at the cow. He was staring at the cow in the same way that he read comic books.
“It doesn’t make much difference where we look,” his stern brother answered, surrounded by America in every direction. “Just as long as we keep looking until we find the trophies.”
Finally, he was quiet on the bed in the hotel room. He was very quiet. “I’m OK,” he said, in a slow calm voice. “It’s all right now.”
Spaghetti bread tears
A forkful of spaghetti bread was halfway to Bob’s mouth moving along at a regular eating motion. One does not know how many miles per hour a fork travels when you are eating but his fork was moving at a nor mal speed when suddenly it slammed on its brakes in his hand and came to a screeching halt halfway to Bob’s mouth.
Tears slowly started ebbing from his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. He had started crying. The tears became low slow sobbing while the fork remained half way to his mouth with a bite of spaghetti bread resting precariously upon it.
“What is it?” Constance said, reaching over and taking the fork from Bob’s hand and putting it down on the plate in front of him.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
He didn’t say anything.
He just sat there continuing to cry.
Constance reached over and took his hand in her hand. “What is it, baby? Tell me what it is.”
Bob just keep crying.
Constance didn’t try to find out any more from him why he was crying. She continued holding his hand but she left him alone in his sorrow.
The plate of spaghetti bread looked silly in front of a grown man crying. Constance didn’t like to sit there holding his hand as he cried with that plate of stuff in front of them. It hurt her dignity and put Bob in a bad light, too.
She gently let go of Bob’s hand and reached over and picked up the plate of spaghetti bread and got up and took it over to the sink.
Then she returned to Bob’s hand again.
He cried for ten minutes.
Constance didn’t say anything more.
She waited for Bob to stop crying.
Kansas
The Logan brothers spent that night in Middle Fork nosing around but they couldn’t find any clues to why the house that the bowling trophies were supposed to be in wasn’t there.
Besides that, people looked at them as if they were a little crazy. “That’s a pasture out there,” an old-timer said to them, looking at them very carefully in the town bar. They waited for him to say something else about the pasture but that was it. The Logan brothers felt a little uncomfortable. They said thank you and tried to find somebody else who could help them.
The old man told the story many times about the three strangers asking if there was a house out there and he said, “ ‘No, that’s a pasture out there,’ and then you know what they said to me? They said thank you for me telling them what they had seen with their very own eyes.”
The old man always laughed when he finished telling the story about the three strangers who came into town looking for a house that was a pasture. “Yeah, they thanked me for telling them that,” and whomever he’d told the story to would laugh along with him.
“I just don’t know what the world’s coming to,” would be the final period at the end of the story.
The next day the Logan brothers left for Kansas. They had no reason to believe that the bowling trophies were in Kansas but they had to look some place and Kansas was just as good as any other place.
The Matthew Brady echo
Patricia and John were lying quietly beside each other in bed. They were very contented from their lovemaking. John had forgotten that he was tired and Patricia’s mind was drained of all passion like an empty swimming pool in the winter.
“Did you hear something in the other room?” Patricia said finally, after a long peaceful
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