tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35623882009-06-17T00:52:19.355-04:00Short Stories, Sagas and Tales from the RoadDr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comBlogger630125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-83567163648941263972009-06-16T16:39:00.002-04:002009-06-16T16:55:55.428-04:00

June 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 6Welcome back to the birthday issue of Truckin' as we turn seven years old this month! 1. Pink Dragons by Paul McGuireCharles was skeptical and accused me of being a CIA or DEA agent, not to mention the evil offspring of George Bush. There was a strong anti-American sentiment in New Zealand and Charles epitomized that angst. When I unfurled a wad of multi-colored

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-5429892919409860582009-06-16T16:38:00.004-04:002009-06-16T16:51:32.177-04:00

Pink Dragons By Paul McGuire © 2009There were four of us... at first. I struggled to find a reliable connection in Sydney, aside from a few hustlers and trannie hookers hanging out around King's Cross. Every morning, I frequented a cafe near my flat where I ate a proper English breakfast with the finest organic ingredients that Australia had to offer. When I joked to the waitress about being out

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-7628714610865279592009-06-16T16:37:00.001-04:002009-06-16T16:37:41.848-04:00

Holly of Houston: Google Me! by Johnny Hughes © 2009 "Hello, is this Gene Wilcox?" Holly Edwards had rehearsed this phone call in her head for forty years, especially this last year. "Well, hello Holly," Gene said. "Oh, you recognized my voice. That's so sweet." "I have caller ID, but I would have recognized your voice for sure. I don't know why, but I've been thinking about you a whole lot

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-32444094382096949392009-06-16T16:36:00.003-04:002009-06-16T16:36:52.085-04:00

I'll Read Your Madness Later By May B. Yesno © 2009Can you believe receiving an email such as that? Can you? Four days later, late into the evening I sit and review that statement. I have gas so bad I cannot breath. I dry heaved and couldn't rid myself of the gas. I need to burp. Badly. Or goodly, as you will. "I'll read your madness later."Well, and good, then, damn you. Read it later and choke

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-67536317920709086912009-06-16T16:36:00.001-04:002009-06-16T16:36:24.125-04:00

The Collector by Milton T. Burton © 2009 He was questioned by two detectives from the Organized Crime Squad---one older, tall, thin and gray haired; the other younger, short, thickset and bald. Raymond Chandler said they always came paired that way. But the old man didn't read Chandler. In fact, he didn't read anything but Stockman Magazine and the local newspaper. A cattleman from deep East

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-76454009245304082062009-06-16T16:35:00.001-04:002009-06-16T16:35:51.003-04:00

Morrison's Lament By Michael Friedman © 2009I sit here alone watching the movie The Doors wondering where my inner Jim Morrison has gone. I use to talk with him so much. We would frequently share stories of excess and divine intervention while trying to figure out exactly who I wanted to be. The '60s icon walked the fine line of my soul and he fell close to my natural instincts when it came to

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-76256107345088531712009-05-02T17:42:00.002-04:002009-05-02T17:47:53.600-04:00

May 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 5Welcome back to the latest issue of Truckin'...1. Popeye by Paul McGuireThe beat up truck with Maryland plates included three large green trashbags that were strapped down in the back. A skinny woman in the passenger seat took a swig off of a bottle and handed it to a guy in a baseball hat. He took one long pull and then spit it out of the open window... More2. Quicklube:

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-69366464906990875852009-05-02T17:38:00.001-04:002009-05-02T17:38:32.009-04:00

Popeye By Paul McGuire © 2009Eddie and I power smoked as we sped through southern New Jersey. He blasted Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti and Kaya (Eddie's sister and my girlfriend) took two hits before she passed out. Eddie smoked at least two-thirds of a blunt and I rolled down the windows to air out the car.I tensed up as we drove over the Delaware Memorial Bridge. Normally, bridges and

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-21449341043011784822009-05-02T17:31:00.001-04:002009-05-02T17:31:44.834-04:00

Quicklube: A Fable By Milton T. Burton © 2009It's turning out to be an A-number-one-fine day for C.C. Chumly. He and several of his like-minded buddies are quaffing a few Tall Toad Pilsners at the Belly-Up Bar, a truly classy place in beautiful downtown Midland, Texas. Early that morning Chumly, a Midland City Councilman, was asked on a local live radio talk show just what he thinks of the

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-87451976185953183502009-05-02T17:29:00.002-04:002009-05-02T17:45:31.592-04:00

The Regret By David "Drizz" Aydt © 2009Many people sport a scar. That scar could be four inch gash on their face from that bad car accident when your buddy had the great idea that shooting Irish car bombs until two a.m. with the townies at the local VFW, well after the softball team took off for their awaiting families, and ended with turning your 1999 Honda Prelude into the letter U on I-494

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-19758165869255529692009-05-02T17:26:00.003-04:002009-05-02T17:28:46.157-04:00

Blue No. 1 By Betty Underground © 2009That night he flipped the switch. Threw the cruel reality of light onto the months we had been spiraling out of control. In those moments of clarity it was impossible to imagine my life without him. Without his strength and his fearlessness in the face of the adversity we had buried ourselves in.Working through our human imperfections was something we made

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-58967346603627260662009-05-02T17:26:00.001-04:002009-05-02T17:26:09.186-04:00

The Miracle of Highway Six by Art Rosch © 2009Highway 50 through Nevada is reputed to be the loneliest road in the USA. It has a rival, and its name is Highway 6. It takes a northeasterly diagonal the entire breadth of Nevada before vanishing into the wilds of The Great Basin in Utah. It is far more isolated than 50, a hard hot eerie stretch of rocky desert and bare crags. There is one Flying

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-82489575085523366662009-04-04T22:51:00.003-04:002009-04-04T22:57:14.728-04:00

April 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 4A new season, a new issue of Truckin'...1. Brownstone by Paul McGuireNothing existed for her before 1944. She was very vague with that part of her life during the war in Europe. She left behind something so incredibly horrifying that she wanted to erase those connections to that past. The vastness of the Atlantic ocean was far enough distance for her to feel safe enough

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-658123882491897282009-04-04T22:50:00.001-04:002009-04-04T22:50:30.056-04:00

The Brownstone By Paul McGuire © 2009In the summer of 2001, I crashed with my grandmother in Brooklyn for a couple of weeks after my wife kicked me out. My grandmother was a very small yet feisty woman somewhere from the Benelux countries. We never really figured out where. She spoke English with a Flemish accent and was fluent in French, Dutch, and even German. Grandma never discussed her past,

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-79251279900179977962009-04-04T22:49:00.001-04:002009-04-04T22:49:35.581-04:00

An Essay . . . Or A White Paper To Depravity By May B. Yesno © 2009Although the steps were light, I tried to reach the door of the bedroom without alerting anyone, my mother stood at the entrance to her bed chamber, waiting. "Son.""Greetings, Mother.""You wish something?""I have not seen you this morning, nor as often in recent days.""I know, I have been intentionally avoiding you. I have been

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-63343837021373887062009-04-04T22:48:00.000-04:002009-04-04T22:49:00.574-04:00

Grassy Knoll By Milton T. Burton © 2009 It took me ten years to find him. And the funny thing is, I was never a conspiracy theorist. Even before I read Posner's "Case Closed," I was almost completely sure Oswald had acted alone. But... The Zapruder film was the fly in my ointment. Anyone who's had as much experience with firearms as I have is aware that the Zapruder film proves

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-4824710932620722942009-04-04T22:47:00.001-04:002009-04-04T22:47:42.816-04:00

Red No. 5 By Betty Underground © 2008We had been fighting for weeks. Finances, forgetting to put gas in the car, not hanging up a towel. You name it we were fighting about it. Years of togetherness and long extended separations had us uncertain about the future. I had a case of the "mean reds". Carcinogenic, like Red No.5. Tugging and pulling at our relationship.It had been close to 6 years since

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-44567194257553471952009-04-04T22:34:00.001-04:002009-04-04T22:46:58.602-04:00

The Sandstorm Scholarships By Johnny Hughes © 2009Way out here they have a name for wind and rain and fireThe rain is Tess , the fire’s Joe, and they call the wind MariahHenry Foster awoke to euphoria for him: the howls, sighs, whimpers, and groans of a full-scale, West Texas sandstorm. Gusts to seventy miles-per- hour changed the tones and sounds that danced up and down the musical scale. He

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-88405910929531351202009-03-03T02:58:00.004-05:002009-03-03T03:12:56.582-05:00

March 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 3Welcome back to the latest issue of Truckin'...1. Lubbock's Own: Larry "the Laugher" Larson by Johnny HughesLarge Mouth Maude Larson once beat a Hockley County man half to death at the Cotton Club with a bowling pin because she thought he stole her comb. Later, she found it in her purse, like all women do. She didn't feel a bit bad. The world-class bitch... More2. A

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-87785226686278256682009-03-03T02:57:00.003-05:002009-03-05T08:00:32.356-05:00

Monroe by Paul McGuire © 2009Monroe sat at the end of the bar on the last stool. He always did. He never left. The octogenarian arrived five minutes before O'Looney's opened and had to be carried out every night when one of his grandkids stopped by to pick him up. I always wondered what Monroe did in the time he left the bar and the time he arrived. He was habitually cranky, a terrible tipper,

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-15491125130450981952009-03-03T02:57:00.001-05:002009-03-03T02:57:33.298-05:00

Lubbock's Own: Larry 'the Laugher' Larson By Johnny Hughes © 2009"Rough as hell, sweet as heaven, senior class of '57."Nearly everyone graduating from Lubbock High School in 1957 planned on careers in show business, given Buddy Holly's success. Larry Larson's mother, Maude Larson, had started him out on steel guitar and juggling, then settled for the ukulele. By fifth grade, she had him

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-33175954539656391022009-03-03T02:55:00.001-05:002009-03-03T02:55:54.104-05:00

A Good Beginning By Milton T. Burton © 2009I found it at an agricultural equipment dealership in a little town called Terrell, which lay about thirty miles east of Dallas. The moment I saw it sitting there a hundred yards off Interstate 20, gleaming brightly in the noonday sun, I knew that I was on the cusp of some great adventure. There were a dozen others lined up beside it, none different

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-2792803889077092802009-03-03T02:54:00.000-05:002009-03-03T02:55:07.555-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day, Tamara Johnson by Dave Peterson © 2009I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom in the stuffy apartment above the Korean dry cleaners in Arlington, VA. I shared the place with Frerrichs and some fat dude whose name I never bothered to learn. My pupils were the huge. I needed to get a grip and it was slipping. The apartment met all my the requirements -- it was cheap,

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-78683463482602808072009-03-03T02:46:00.000-05:002009-03-03T02:56:48.654-05:00

Hunter Wellington By Betty Underground © 2008She stood before me; white cotton panties with little cherries, a t-shirt, yellow rain slicker and her Hunter Wellingtons. Thighs red and chaffed from the wet jeans she had discarded in the mud-room. The rest of her, soaked. Dead pan, she states, "It's raining." Then grins. Even when she states the obvious, her wit overcomes me. I let out a chuckle as

Dr. Paulynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3562388.post-34610537901418157032009-02-01T16:18:00.003-05:002009-02-02T23:54:27.117-05:00

February 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 2Welcome back to the latest issue of Truckin'...1. Kitchen Table by Paul McGuireThat's cool. You're a chick. And chicks are supposed to like sappy shit like Coldplay. I need something that I can play air guitar to. Not 'insert and remove tampons from my ass' kinda music... More2. A Proper Bow-Tie by Betty UndergroundI lay out the pieces of his tuxedo, he finishes the

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