This is a continuation of the story, "The Old Hotel". I might rename the piece, "The Old Fart Croaks", but for no...

The Mississippi Forest was elderly and virgin. A primeval paradise. There was perfect balance in all the elements of ecology. Back in prim...

My earliest memory is set in Belle and Joe's dog trot log cabin. I remember floating out of the baby cradle. I had been in that constr...

Joe Gordon and Belle Presley were wizened teens when they hitched up. They grew up on dirt farms in the shining dark heart of Mississippi. ...

I awaken, sticky with sweat. Brain waves slowly pick up pace and I come to beta consciousness. Reality coalesces slowly, through the fog o...

That night the three muffinteers slept in room #116. They had several rooms to choose from in the sparsely populated Old Hotel. Some of the...

That night the three muffinteers slept in room #116. They had their pick from several rooms in the sparsely populated Old Hotel. Of course...

Banty, Carol and I, giggling from sheer animal vitality and sunshine, skip from the porch. Black velvet and cobalt butterflies land on Papa ...

She silly sally down the hall way. Skip and dip. Stutter, flutter. Kicking up little dust clouds. Aroma of human effluvium. As I leave t...

I need a plan, man. I need a blog plan. I need focus. I need a cohesive concept. I need to win the lottery. I need a face lift. I nee...