I think of myself in the oral tradition, as a troubadour, a village tale-teller, the man in the shadows of a campfire. That’s the way I’d like to be remembered.
An overnight success, sixty years in the making!
Does it need a sequel?
As the two men came through the door, dusty and travel-worn, he turned to them. “Gentlemen? If I may suggest a drink.”
They paused, studying him with frank curiosity. Then the older one of the two said, “We’d take that kindly…