Felt Like Cryin’

Christmas, 2001 / No. 7

Mr. Simpson never was too friendly, but he sure did go oat the store like a house

on fire with his packa Craven A up his arm like a friggin’ box

en the ferrs at the counter was watchin’ arfter him like hawks, en whin one of

them asked me if they could buy me a packa O-Pee-Chee I told them I’d take

a dollar’s wortha bologna instead

en whin I set there gnawin’ on the thing like Shep done her bone, I saw the tractor

pass by, ’cept it weren’t no tractor, it were a big bulldozer, en Merle en Eldon were

talkin’ ’bout the piler money Mr. Simpson made whin he sold off the orchard

en whin I thought about Shep pissing on Mr. Simpson’s flower bed, I didn’t so much feel like laughin’, I felt like

cryin’ when I thought of Shep, leg all cocked, glassy eyes in Mr. Simpson’s headlights, ready to keel over from a

heart attack

John Stiles is a writer and filmmaker living in London. He is the author of Scouts are Cancelled (Insomniac, 2002) and The Insolent Boy (Insomniac, 2001). His work has appeared in Pagitica, the Literary Review of Canada, Lichen, Storyteller, the Web zine Another Toronto Quarterly, and the anthology The IV Lounge Reader (Insomniac, 2001). Last updated Christmas, 2006.