For the last fifteen or so years I've been living with a bunch of dead guys at a motel in West Texas. Like the characters in my stories, I'd really like to move on, see the world, go places. But I'm just like them. Anchored by love, worn down by circumstances and fascinated by how much there really is underneath it all. So I keep writing their stories and tell myself that someday, when I've got this all out of my system, I'll write deep, meaningful literature about... something else. In the meantime, this is a place for the short attention spanned. I'm making a commitment to keep it small here. Flash fiction and scenes from the life inspired by, The Bella Vista Motel.
Slappy, the kid, appeared from around the corner, hip first and jaws flapping as usual. Romeo still had the phone receiver in his hand, even though Mr. G had hung up, and could feel his pulse battering senselessly against the dead, black bakelite. "I hope you're ready to go," the kid said, "'cause when I pulled the truck up and looked back in the rear view, there's the mutts in the back again, just like they always ride back there, like it's all of a sudden normal or somethin', but unless you let 'em ride in the back when I ain't lookin,' I don't know where they keep gettin' the idea they're goin' somewhere, and I gotta tell you, I'm fed up with their gettin' in the way and being so obstinate about it - those dogs are some big heavy bastards when they don't want to move - but I did finally get 'em out, so... we goin' now or what?" Romeo replaced the receiver, closed the cover of the guest book and tucked it under his arm. He couldn't help sighing as he looked out the front window at the road that lead beyond sight to wavering, intangible horizons and said, "Nah, you go on without me and just get double of everything on the list." Slappy's elastic eyebrows shot up, but before he could ask, Romeo said, "I got some work to do before our new guest arrives..." and he gave a whistle for the dogs to make it easier on the kid as he headed out the door and down the walkway to the grove of trees behind the motel.