Truckin' March 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 3

It’s 2009 already, and March is here! That means another issue of Truckin! Pauly writes:

Welcome back to a “it’s almost Spring” edition of Truckin’. I hope some of these stories bring a smile to your face or inspire you. This issue features the Truckin’ debut of Milton T. Burton, a published author, who was generous enough to share a short story titled A Good Beginning. We also have another gem from Johnny Hughes who shared a story about a Lubbock, Texas legend. Betty Underground contributed a sultry and erotica tale for you with Hunter Wellington. Dave Peterson is back with a Valentine’s Day story. And I wrote a piece of fiction titled Monroe inspired by James Joyce.

Lubbock’s Own: Larry "the Laugher" Larson by Johnny Hughes
Large 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…

A Good Beginning by Milton T. Burton
He bills himself as my best friend, but he’s not. My best friend was a Kentucky farm boy who died in screaming agony in the Mekong Delta forty years earlier. But even aristocrats like to name-drop occasionally, and mine has been a good name to drop since not long after I came to the New York financial world out of a Cleveland blue color neighborhood by way of Vietnam decades ago…

Happy Valentine’s Day Tamara Johnson by Dave Peterson
I moved behind the door to investigate and possibly kill someone. I figured I was ready. The deadbolt lock was sprung with a soft – click. I heard keys jangling, a girl’s voice laughing, and then the handle turned. I leveled the revolver and pulled the hammer back…

Hunter Wellington by Betty Underground
Her comfort in her own skin surpasses societies modesty boundaries. It is just how she is. Most people come home from work and take off their shoes. She doesn’t stop there, she takes off her pants and pulls her bra off through the sleeves of her t-shirt. Discarding them on the floor of the entrance. She prefers the freedom, and cares less about what others might think…

Monroe by Paul McGuire
Monroe 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…