Cheeky
Jun 15th, 2010 | By Craig Wallwork | Category: Short StoriesI had picked up a leaflet on the nineteenth century canal boats in a tourist information centre in some God-forsaken town when I heard a woman’s voice.
I had picked up a leaflet on the nineteenth century canal boats in a tourist information centre in some God-forsaken town when I heard a woman’s voice.
“I would hold a gun against the head of my boss and make him cry. If I could go back and do it all again, that’s what I’d do.”
It starts with a swell of uncertainty that rises in the gut, an unmistakable tumble of nerves that announces itself in every heartbeat.
Please note that at this time, The Nazareth House Foundation does not accept legal responsibility for Jesus once the adoption is processed.
And it was about this time I began to hear noises. Not in my head or anything like that, but like that of a bird caught in the attic.
Travel along Cedar Avenue, all the way to the corner of where Dickinson Street meets West Main, and you’ll find him without glut or deception, dressed in a grey pin striped Italian suit that had seen too many days in the rain.