Posts Tagged ‘Chetspeak’

Tomorrow 5:30-7:30

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July 9th, 2017 Posted 9:25 am

Spence will be at Mutts and Martinis in beautiful Osterville Mass. on Cape Cod, signing THE RIGHT SIDE and some Chet and Bernies and sampling martinis.

Osterville Village Library, 43 Wianno Ave, Osterville, MA. 1 (508) 420- 0550.

(Chetspeak returns next Sunday.)

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Chetspeak on Father’s Day Sunday

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June 18th, 2017 Posted 9:03 am

“Ms. Peoples is mad at dad.”

Leda’s smile started to disappear. That takes time, what with there being so much of it. “Ms. Peoples the bus driver?”

“She has a cat named Agatha.”

“Why is she mad at da – at your father?”

Charlie’s mouth opened like he was about to say something. Then he glanced at Bernie – who actually wasn’t even watching, his gaze having turned to the window, where Malcolm was just stepping back, out of view – and that little mouth closed right up.

“Charlie?” Leda said.

“Ms. Peoples thinks I’m immature,” Bernie told her.

Leda’s smile was now entirely gone. “What did you do? Forget it – I don’t even want to know.”

“He stirred the kids up!” Charlie said. Blurted: could that be the expression?

“Is that how Ms. Peoples put it?”

Charlie nodded. “She doesn’t like when we get stirred up. She likes when we sit still and think quiet thoughts.”

“Quiet thoughts?” Bernie said. “What the hell are – “

Leda gave Bernie a look I remembered from the old days and he went silent.

– from Scents and Sensibility.

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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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June 4th, 2017 Posted 8:47 am

“Perro loco,” he said. He raised the gun. I saw down the barrel, a small round space, black and empty. Bernie’s voice spoke inside me at last: Run, big guy. But I couldn’t. Somehow that tiny black emptiness had me frozen in place. That thick over-sized trigger finger started to squeeze.

And at that moment came a surprise. Somehow, without making any noise, or at least not any that I heard, Peanut was on her feet, and not only on her feet but – you couldn’t call it running, maybe, more like lumbering – yes, lumbering with surprising speed, up and at ‘em but even more so than I could have dreamed, and heading right in the perp’s direction; dudes who point guns at me are perps, case closed.

– from TO FETCH A THIEF.

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The Books



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