One Trick Pony

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.

Thanks for reading.


Thursday, February 11, 2010

The Guest Book - 21

Dawn was creeping in all around him as Romeo hung up the telephone and took a few shaky breaths. He wiped his hand across his mouth and felt the slick smear of blood spatter, stared at his palm for a moment, already moving his mind past what had just happened and on to what came next. Assess the situation... remove the corpse from the lobby, big heavy bastard, going to need help, wake up the kid and get him in here, blood, good amount of blood on the floor by the kitchen table and trailing out to the front desk in the lobby, but not too bad, not on the ceiling or the walls, with any luck, Madge didn't hear the phone and would stay asleep back in the bedroom for another hour. He heard Slappy's shuffling footsteps coming up the walkway outside the lobby, and turned just in time to see the boy throw open the door and stop short as he caught sight of Clark's body. He let out with a low whistle and said, "Heard the telephone ringing, figured nobody was calling with good news this hour of the morning, Jiminy Christ, he's enormous, where'd he come from?" But Romeo didn't answer him right away, he was staring at the guest book, spread open on the front desk, the ink gleaming wet on the signature at the bottom of the page, the paper speckled with the same spatter as Romeo's grim face, then he reached out and smacked the cover closed as he said, "Help me take care of this mess before Madge wakes up, you know how she feels about blood in the kitchen."


  1. Oh no, you go and get me hooked! What the hell did Clark see? You have to put a chapter up!!!

  2. Sorry Cormac, shoot, I wasn't planning on taking that one any farther. Not here, that is. Maybe I'll write Clark's little escapade into a short story...


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