“As Is”

I’m just about as sure as sure can be the plumber in dingy green overalls has the goose in the back of his truck. It’s not that I heard it, but I’m certain I saw it when I casually looked out the side window and spotted Mona undressing in the lumberyard. All of us regularly admonish her about going public with what we’re so lucky to see all the time indoors, and she made quite a sight, all that softness and all those curves amidst the slats and boards of different hardwoods, but her disrobing wasn’t enough to keep my eyes from spotting the grey-black goose. The bird was standing (or, actually, kind of waddling-in-place) behind the cab of the vehicle being driven out of here by the plumber in green, the nice plumber, who earlier in the day had offered me a Snickers bar in exchange for my handing him a pipe wrench that was a tad out of his reach. But if you’re going to go after the goose—and I absolutely wouldn’t fault you if you did—then you better put pedal-to-the-metal and follow this guy in green who’s driving a Ford pickup. Don’t even give the gaggle of other men in the lumberyard the time of day (there are always plenty of guys hanging around here), and forget all about Mona and me. Sure, I imagine I’d come to somewhat miss the honker myself if it were gone for good, though probably not as much as you would, but essentially, I can vouch that the rest of us are all okay as is.

Related Posts
Filter by
Post Page
Featured Fiction New Fiction Interviews (all) Most Popular
Sort by

“Gilson’s Ex”

We’d been drinking and talking for an hour or so, on a Saturday night in the Dundee Brauhaus, when Lindy
2018-02-25 16:53:57


Interview with Paul Griner

Once upon a time, I took a creative writing class
2016-12-22 13:47:01


“The Estrangement”

Brady flew from L.A. to Phoenix for his mother’s funeral. When he pulled his rental car into the cemetery lot, he s
2020-01-20 09:24:39


“This Girl and Her Opossum”

The first time I saw her she was a mewling newborn lying in the ditch by the junction of Twist and 149. Bill Connor
2020-01-17 13:16:09


“Finders Keepers”

They never found the body. How could they? She was all scream. Sonic, he called her, and she sped off running
2020-01-13 12:54:34


“Family On Fire”

He lived in the burning house, frantic, for fifteen years. He kept trying to tell his parents the whole place was on
2020-01-10 13:16:44


“A World in Roberto Salazar”

“Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.” —Black Elk My agony convulses in backwater bays. Crashes like sever
2020-01-08 12:41:08


“Master Craftsman”

Tom’s old guitar was falling apart. He asked friends for advice. “Take it to Sanderson,” they said. “He can fi
2020-01-03 07:11:11


The Nature of Trees

Acorns. Smallness. Roundness. Small brown oval things. Spherical objects. Anything small, anything round.
2019-12-25 13:08:21


“A Song From The 70s”

My brother Dan and I were at the amusement park the last day it was open. It was pretty sad, actually. Only half the
2019-12-16 10:56:56


William Blome

About William Blome

William C. Blome pens short fiction and poetry. He lives in-between Baltimore and Washington, DC, and he is a master’s degree graduate of the Johns Hopkins University Writing Seminars. His work has previously seen the light of day in such fine little mags as PRISM International, Poetry London, Orion headless, Salted Feathers, and The California Quarterly.