Introduction~

 

BROKENHEARTED IN BAKERSFIELD

Story by: Nelson J. Hall & Michael Eastman

Cover art by: Joel Rivers

 

This story happened in Bakersfield not long ago.  Or maybe it didn't.  The names have been changed to protect the guilty, fictitious or not, living or dead….

[The sequel is here: https://the-feet-of-god.blogspot.com]

Comments?  Please email michael_eastman@msn.com

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Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

  38 - FANNY GETS IT OFF HER CHEST I’ve always been told it is more blessed to give than receive.   With my lucky $20 secure in my pocket, I hightailed it away from the storefront chapel before the old man could realize my donation had been re-donated.   I returned to La Casa Grande in order to reassure my Aunt Fanny that I, her only available relative, would always be there to attend to her every want and need (every need except those attended to by Lars).   Most important, I wanted to make sure the hired help wasn’t muscling his way into my territory. I entered the kitchen the same way I left, slamming the door behind me.   Lars jumped.   He had been screwing the cap on a bottle of Springtime Fresh Bleach, and I couldn’t help thinking he was being sneaky and try ’ n to hide something. “Listen up!” I shouted.   It was time for me to stake my claim.   “I’m the boy of the house, you’re just the houseboy.   You stick to the enemas, and ...
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  39 - AS THE LIGHT FADES FROM THE SCREEN… Having revealed herself, relatively speaking, as my Great-Granny and not my Auntie, Fanny tossed me out of her boudoir for another session with Lars.   I retreated to my room over the garage after a quick stop in the kitchen to take advantage of my new kitchen privileges. Next day I was in Fanny’s living room (now that I got living room privileges, too) sitting in a fancy carved chair pondering my inheritance.   I calculated the odds of winning my birthright, and I resolved to follow Brother Hickpacker’s inspirational advice and stay close to my very rich relative. I barely had time to finish my morning beer when Lars came dashing in, “Boy, oh boy, oh boy.   Jou better get in here real queek.   Cheez gonna blow any secon.   I call Doctor Pill!” I rushed to the old lady’s side.   In the candlelit silence I gazed down on the wreck of her face, laying there like a petrified rock, hidden in the shadows, ...
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