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It was the long tail end of a jackrabbit roadkill day.

They come out of nowhere and come apart instantly, spreading entrails far and wide.

Jackrabbits.

Macy Sugarspoon had a crisis.

Johnny Threesome had just gotten the hammer. Down for 30 days in the hole.

Johnny got his nickname because he was the only shoplifter in Tupela, Arkansas who could rob the same store three times in a row and not get caught.

Until he did.

So now J.T. a repeat offender, had gotten the hammer and Macy was in her cups.

None of the cheap stuff. Only imported direct from the great distilleries of the Scottish highlands.

Cask-proof. 21 years old. Priceless ambrosia of the gods.

Why did J.T. have to go and do what he did?

Macy thought and thought.

He's a bum, a no good bum.

The original no-good two-bit lower Eastside dog.

J.T. hailed from N.Y.C. originally.

Macy shrugged her shoulders, rubbed them where the noonday sun had bitten, her neck and collarbone itched. She felt grimy.

She stared at the horizon, so easy to do in the late long afternoons of this, the smallest of small towns.
She stared at the horizon and felt the earliest bubbles of what would become an overwhelming hope.

She wouldn't end up Jackhammered rabbitkill.
She was going to be free.

Character Study No. 8 Bob Dobbs

Bob is an amoral man with possibly the emotional maturity of a young boy. Bob does things because they feel good. Bob does things because he can. Bob does things for praise and appreciation.

Bob is not trustworthy. Bob may have killed every noble feeling he ever had. Bob is the kind of person who walks through the world untouched leaving a storm of wreckage and ruined lives behind him.

Bob is not a nice person. Even Bob finds himself irritating, annoying, even cruel?

Bob has bad habits, Bob is a bad person, if anyone ever knew how many stupid, foolish, chemical-assisted or otherwise things Bob has done in his life, Bod wouldn't have any associates at all.

Bob is an animal, Bob is growing meaner with age.

Can anything stop, suspend or correct Bob's path?

This is the kind of character worth writing about.

Only trouble that appears to remain is this: with such an awful character as this, who would want to read about him?

He's a great challenge to write, but nobody could accept such a character at face value.

Bob is a destroyer. Bob will only betray his associates. Bob himself, in the introspective sections of the proposed narrative, would examine his own descent into, for lack of a better word, pedestrian evil, and be momentarily horrified; not because he equals the evil men who are his peers but because he falls so far short of them yet apparently remains incapable of being good.

Such a character would be heaven unchecked to write and worse than hell, a mediocrity, to read.

What am I to do with such a creation? For the sake of society I should make Bob disappear, move him to a villa in Tuscany near Sienna and solitude, so he can live out his fictional life removed from the major currents of other people's lives, perhaps for his sake too? Or is such a niche too good for the likes of what may be just another worn out stereotype?

In creating Bob, I wanted to create a character that I would find challenging and intriguing to write about, yet in so doing I have both succeeded and failed.

This character is not worthless, how much more the pity, a truly worthless character is endearing.

This character is stubborn and childish and a betrayer.

This character deserves nothing, but will get his story told in the end.

But no one will read it.

The day someone got written into a book

There was once an Unnamable Thing. It was something Inexpressible, only the vaguest generalities could encompass it, it had no definition, in any sense of the word.

Beyond the fact that it was, nobody could say very much about it.
It was strongest when it was weak.
It was the opposite too.

That everyone knew about it, that only made it more complex, more complicated.

At first it was simple, but how can something be an Unnamable Inexpressible Indefinite Thing and yet be simple?

The truth depends on where you're standing.

Somebody got written into a book today, but what its pages are made of and how you can read what they say is impossible to say.

Although it is possible to know, I have nothing to say.

Words can't express the rest I meant to say.

Overheard in Karmi Cafe Warsaw

"So get this, I walk into Karmi for a coffee and standing in line in front of me is this really attractive woman,"
"Yeah? What'd she look like?"
"Slim, firm, toned body, sporty, you know, my type,"
"So did you ask her out or what?"
"Hold on, I didn't get the chance,"
"What? You've gotta be kidding me,"
"No, Seriously!"
"What happened?"
"It's her turn to order, right? And she orders a large milkshake, and the server doesn't want to give her one,"
"What!?!"
"No, I swear, this server is a big guy, easily both of us put together, and he looks at her and says 'are you sure about that ma'am? I don't think you want the large milkshake, I mean look at me, I can't finish the large milkshake, wouldn't you rather have the small one?' and she just looks at him and says 'Yes, I want the large milkshake,' but I could tell she was surprised, I mean, who ever heard of a server who discourages customers from spending more?"
"That's totally f**ked up man,"
"No, what's f**ked up is that he then turns around and yells 'hey Frankie, get this, she wants the large one!' and a thin reedy guy in a chef's uniform sticks his head out of the kitchen door and takes one look at this I'm-starting-to-be-very-interested-in woman and says 'Are you sure ma'am? It's a very big milkshake,' and then the server, looking satisfied, turns to her with some kind of 'told-you-so' expression on his face in time to hear her say, with exasperation 'Yes! I want the large milkshake!' but I could tell things had gone way past surreal because I suddenly noticed that everybody in the cafe was watching this exchange like it was the latest and greatest episode of their favourite tv show and..."
"What man!? What!?!"
"...When he finally served her the milkshake he made another face like he regretted giving her the milkshake or something,"
"I don't believe it,"
"No! I'm telling you I'm serious, by the look on his face you'd 've thought he'd given her anthrax or something equally dangerous,"
"So...did she finish it?"
"Yessiree!"
"Score one for the customer! Alright!"
"I was so impressed by the whole scene, I just sat there admiring her, coffee getting cold, there's some memories you don't want to risk spoiling so I didn't ask her right then, besides, I don't think after what'd just happened I ought to introduce myself right away, I mean, how would that look? if I walked up to her and said 'hi, I couldn't help but noticing how neatly you handled that joker back there and I'd like to ask you out!?!' nah, too intense, there'll be another chance..."
"...Hey, where'd you go? you kind of zoned out there for a minute,"
"Oh? sorry, lot on my mind,"
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Maybe later, let's talk about something else,"
"Sure buddy, just hope you don't lose your nerve,"
"What d'you mean?"
"I know that look on your face,"
"So what? Nothing I can do about it now,"
"Whatever buddy, just get her number next time or I'll kick your ass,"
"If I don't ask her next time, I'll deserve it,"