*FRENETIC* Four Stories

You think a man can t give up his rights? You point a loaded rifle at me you better pull the trigger, even if it s just to preserve your civil rights!
"This is crazy. Stupid I want to laugh Can t stop it, can t help it Must get control Mad, I m getting mad as hell! Come on you whore bitch bear I ll feed you nine lead balls to take home for supper..."
"Naked and running from trailer to trailer until an old woman was kind enough to lend me a towel her dog had been sleeping on. She was also kind enough to call the police. That part turned out all right though because I wouldn t have gone back for my truck without them."
"He had no business in this overheated God forsaken or God inundated land they called Holy. A promise to priest who was desperate to see to a remote flock, and probably more than any single thing a bravado born of living in a free land among a free people, so that you could go where you wanted when you wanted. Now here he sat, in a smelly dirty jail somewhere in the Gaza with blood running down his head to remind him that in this part of the world there could be a terrible price to pay for a simple errand of mercy.

Autorentext

Old mechanic by trade and would be writer by profession. Calls Kansas City, Missouri USA home.

Klappentext

You think a man can t give up his rights? You point a loaded rifle at me you better pull the trigger, even if it s just to preserve your civil rights! #### "This is crazy. Stupid I want to laugh Can t stop it, can t help it Must get control Mad, I m getting mad as hell! Come on you whore bitch bear I ll feed you nine lead balls to take home for supper..." #### "Naked and running from trailer to trailer until an old woman was kind enough to lend me a towel her dog had been sleeping on. She was also kind enough to call the police. That part turned out all right though because I wouldn t have gone back for my truck without them." #### "He had no business in this overheated God forsaken or God inundated land they called Holy. A promise to priest who was desperate to see to a remote flock, and probably more than any single thing a bravado born of living in a free land among a free people, so that you could go where you wanted when you wanted. Now here he sat, in a smelly dirty jail somewhere in the Gaza with blood running down his head to remind him that in this part of the world there could be a terrible price to pay for a simple errand of mercy.