Wish Bone
(Published in Jubilee City, 2005)

Sometimes it gets strange what’s important. Like the time me and my best friend Mike Garrett were at the lake. It was raining. It was early morning. We smoked a joint and were drinking. We felt great and wanted to stay that way. We just had a few beers left and Mike had a half pint of Jack Daniels. We were pacing and didn’t want to run out before the store opened for more beer at noon. This was it for the Jack because it was Sunday. Shirtless Mike went out from under the shelter to his Chevy to get a light for his cigarette from the car lighter. Skillfully he held his half pint with his fingers as he light his cigarette in the car. He took a few precious swigs of the whiskey. Then got out, put the Jack Daniels in the back pocket of his jeans, closed the door, walked back toward the shelter, noticed his car was rolling back. He quickly opens it, jumps in, puts it in gear, something popped on his butt, it’s warm and wet. Pale, he looks at the rain on his windshield and says “my God I hope that’s blood.”