Murphy Frain photography. (c) 2017. All rights reserved.


Murder Down Yonder

There’s only a couple left.

GinnySue was no more’n thirteen first time she brought one home. Tonight, it’s some kid named Frain.

Settin’ round the fire pit, GinnySue holdin’ Frain’s hand, me cleanin’ my Remington. “Tell one a your stories, Daddy,” she begs.

I picked one about the drifter come up from Oklahoma. One called me a coward account I wouldn’t let him date GinnySue till she’s eighteen. I’d a made him wait forever anyhow. Wasn’t in my GinnySue’s league.

“He’s still waitin’,” I say. Point my Remington at Frain’s shoes. “Right ‘neath where you’re settin’.”

Frain tripped, he run off so fast. Made it easy for me. Only took one shot.

This Saturday, after GinnySue bring home that Zach kid, I’m a be all done.


As if this challenge wasn’t challenging enough, my family has kidnapped me and forced me on a vacation. If you’ve been following since Air Conditioner, you’ll know I’m traveling with a woman who has killed me three or five times in the past month. And one of the kids in the back is gonna do me in before this vacation ends. Just a gut feeling. And if anyone can sense an impending murder, it’s me.


26 thoughts on “Remington

  1. Your family is taking you to a new location to murder you and calling it a vacation? Well, I suppose every family has its little dysfunctions.

    Well, enjoy your few hours of life before S has its way with you. Snake? Smoke? Smile? Staff? Sandwich? So many possibilities.


  2. >>And if anyone can sense an impending murder, it’s me.

    Not sure I agree with this. If you can sense an impending murder, why do you stick around?

    S is for a certain shark?


  3. Had to show this one to His Grace. See, last Christmas he asked for a banjo.

    Now, His Grace isn’t terribly musical. I was rather surprised he’d asked for one and inquired into his reasoning.

    “It’s because our daughters are teenagers.”

    *blink* Okay….? Nevertheless, I got him one.

    On Christmas morning, when we opened presents, he was most pleased to get that banjo. Their Ladyships, on the other hand, put up such a fuss. “MOOOOOYOOOOMMM! Why’d you get him a banjo?”

    Uh, because he wanted one?

    Nevertheless, in their eyes, I’d ruined Christmas. “That’s the final piece he needed to complete the set!” And both stormed off to their bedrooms to contemplate their impending spinster lives.

    The set of…? Oh.

    See, His Grace already owns a shotgun, a rocking chair and a porch. All he needed was the banjo, the final piece to protect his daughters from any wayward boyfriends they might bring home.

    Later I went and apologised to them. “Fret not. There’s always an arranged marriage.”

    “To a stranger? What good will that do?” My eldest cried.

    “Well, he will be kind to you and treat you well. He’ll be quite incentivised to behave his best as a husband. After all, the first thing we will do is inform him that your father has a banjo and is not afraid to use it.”

    –Her Grace, Heidi from Romance Spinners


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