The Pub
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The Pub

where have all the morons gone?

no one is buried here. it’s the rest of the load of soil moved from the street to the driveway. i swear.

they ust to come ‘bout in spring to ask if they could ‘elp with me yard work. after the snow’s melted, the weeds are growin.

but for near three years, i’ve not seen them. i could ave ust their help yesterday movin’ a tractor scoop of soil from the saint tae me yard to fix up the dry, low patches.

but not a sign a them. es okay. yard work is meditative. i listen to the voices in me…




When you have something to write but no one wants to read it

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Ann James

Ann James

Her writing muse lurks in the volcanic hills amidst mustangs, marmots and jackalopes. While hiking with her dogs, Ann stumbles upon stories of dark humor.

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