Posts Tagged ‘A Fistful of Collars’

Chetspeak on Sunday

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October 22nd, 2017 Posted 11:13 am

We’re doing beginnings. Today – A FISTFUL OF COLLARS:

 

“Heard you drove another one off a cliff,” said Nixon Panero. He spat a thin brown stream of chewing tobacco into an empty paint can, or maybe not that empty. Yellow paint, the yellow of egg yolks, now with a brown swirl in the middle: there’s all kinds of beauty in life.

“You heard wrong,” said Bernie.

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Chetspeak on Sunday

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June 11th, 2017 Posted 8:46 am

We drove toward the sun. It was sinking now, just over the mountains across the Valley, reddening everything, including Bernie’s face. That bothered me for some reason.

“What are you barking about?”

Was that me? Oops. But then I barked some more, this time just to bark when I was back at the controls of my own barking, if that makes sense.

“Another chewy? Forget it?”

– from A FISTFUL OF COLLARS.

(Any yes, back on the tennis court – can’t blame the knee anymore for all the lousy shots. – Admin)

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Chetspeak on Sunday

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May 28th, 2017 Posted 9:13 am

“ … puppy I was telling you about?” Mr. Parsons was saying.

“The one you saw in the canyon?” Bernie said.

“Exactly,” said Mr. Parsons. “Spotted the little fella again this afternoon. Even managed to snap a picture of him on my cell phone – first time I got the damn thing to work.”

“Soon you’ll be uploading to the cloud,” Bernie said.

Mr. Parsons gave Bernie a quick look, then nodded. “That’s true,” he said. “And except for how I’ll miss Mrs. Parsons, I’m ready. I’ve had a good life.”

“No, no, no,” Bernie said. “I meant – “

– from A FISTFUL OF COLLARS.

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Chetspeak on Sunday

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May 7th, 2017 Posted 7:54 am

Spike lumbered up, gave me a bump. Just being friends: Spike was getting on now, that twisted warrior face almost completely white. I gave him a friendly bump back. He rose up and tried to … really? What a crazy idea! I shook him off, rose up myself and tried to do the same crazy thing! What a time we were having! He shook me off and then we were racing around the yard – not really racing, since Spike was no speedster – nipping at each other and barking our heads off. Did we roll around some in an oily patch? Maybe, but I couldn’t be sure, because all of a sudden Spike had one of those – what were they called? welding torches? – yes, welding torches in his mouth, and I had to have it, so –

– from A FISTFUL OF COLLARS.

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