cropped-self-logo-threescreenshot-from-2013-12-08-2156392 ADULT MATERIAL







Frank says, “I read your last two stories in the Ravin’ Times.

They was kinda crude.”


Hank: Well, I found ’em funny.


Frank: Yeah, but you were pretty far gone.


Hank:  What cha mean by that?


Frank: I mean all this talk of menstruating women and ass



Hank: Well, women do menstruate… and in the bush there

are animals. And some animals think the female’s

in heat…. You know this. And there’s no where to

hide up here – unless you build a foxhole. No bathrooms

up here, either. So it’s hard for the gals to be

dainty about personal matters… And ass sniffin’?

Have you ever watched the preacher crawl

around Matilta’s shoes?… when she lays the

whip on and gives him confession.


Hank: Yeh, I hear you. He needs a taste of the whip.

He sure can use some purifyin’.


Frank: You should know. You’ve been reading all his

porn for the past 2 1/2 years… And hiding it

from the preacher all the while.


Hank: Yup, that’s sure put his nose out of joint

all right. He’s mad as hell at me.  Heh. Heh.


Frank: I’ve heard ya slappin away in the night.

You’re almost as sick as he is.


Hank: Nah, come on! That’s perfectly natural.

Sick’s not the right word… There’s a

word for it…”


Frank: Yeah, “pervert”! That’s the word for

what you’ve been doing all through

these long winter nights. And the sounds

you mak… Whew!


Hank: That’s coming from you. If you‘re calling

me a pervert, I must be in really

bad shape. Maybe I should see a doctor.


Frank:   Or see Matilda. She’ll set you straight.

There are no doctors around here,

but she knows exactly what you  need.


Hank: I guess.


Frank: More important, you don’t have to admit it…

(No one needs to know). But I know and you know…

She knows exactly what you want.


That got Hank thinkin. He rested his chin in his hand

and he stared off into empty space – like the sculpture in Paris

from that fella, Rodin. To be honest, Hank didn’t look as

intelligent as that sculpture called, “The Thinker.” 

I think all he was seeing was the Great Beyond, like my

aunt Ruth.

My dad used to say, “There’s nothing wrong with Ruth, except

When you look into her eyes you see

the Great Beyond.”


Staring off into the distance and lookin’ at

Nothing much, this’d get Hank agitated. And when

Hank got agitated, his hands would twitch a bit.

And twitching of his hands, that was a sign. A sign that

In no time at all, he’d scuttle off and start digging.

Digging his tunnel towards the East, as if there

was some Great Hurry about the whole thing,

Each time he began his frantic digging, well…

There was no talking to him after that.

Someone should tell him that the East is

4,000 miles away.


There was only the quick sound of his

shovel and the occasional scrape of it when he hit

the rebar.



(C)2016 by W.G. Milne




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