Tuesday, February 09, 2010


The weekend in minor:

The Who Dat won. Why Dat?

Younger, faster, more aggressive. More hungry also.


For the past week I’ve been hounding my Post Mistress about the cable bill. I have not, I maintained, received it. Tired of waiting I queried the provider. You’ve paid your bill, Sir.


Called the bank for a special statement.

Sure enough. I’d paid the bill, Sir. And forgotten to log the register.

I’ve skipped the eggs for breakfast the last two days.


I set aside a link for a blog. The link was specific to the Health Care/Child Production/Progressive Side of suburbia. The writer made a very coherent case for limiting births. I wanted to share the conversation with my readers.

I aborted the endeavor accidently.

I suppose I’d make a lousy father.


From photo share:

23-800 *

Thursday, last week, I journeyed to the grocery store. I deliberately counted out six bags of bite sized Milky Bars a neighbor wanted for a visit upcoming. Her family and their kids were coming into town, and she estimated that was the requirement for three days and twelve zillion grandkids.

On return to the village, I stopped by her house first. We found I’d returned with four bags of the candy. Looking at the receipt, we found that I’d been charged with five bags.

Friday, last week, I journeyed to the grocery store and sought out the owner. The owner happens to be the owner of the Pharmacy I wrote of the other day (and posted pictures).

I told her of my adventures with her check out clerks and my candies.

Sunday, the owner of the Greasy stopped by. His daughter had been terminated as the check-out clerk at the grocery.

He thanked me.

I had no idea she was a relation.

I am not sure that had I known I’d have done much differently – malfeasance being what it is.

I’ve examined the situation, and I’ve pretty well concluded that because the girl is the daughter of the sister of the near neighbor, of whom I have written, that I was the subject of family retribution and inconvenience.

Oddly, the retribution cost the grocer two more bags of candy and was of little inconvenience to me as I only stopped in on the way to the bank for personal business. Personally, I’d surmise the near neighbors family takes things personally.

Shady folks should not take things personally. My opinion, of course; personally speaking. But then, I have noticed drug dealers/some users take set-backs personally.


The shopping business reminds me; I must go to the liquor store and make the tobacco purchases for the guys in the area.

Damn. It’s been a bad week for forgetting things.


Oh! I almost forgot. PS sucks. Lost forty-four cents.

Can’t forget that.

I’ve written down a name. On a sticky note. I’ve pasted it to the light shade. I’ve also put it on a computer sticky note. It is the one I’m looking to regain my forty-four cents from.

If I don’t forget what the name means.

I notice I didn’t put the reason with the name on the stickies.

I’ll not forget.


From the reaches,

Ten Mile

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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1 Response to Tuesday, February 09, 2010

  1. john says:

    small towns… going to the owner not some pompous manager, termination sounds pretty harsh unless there had been other miscues. poker, old school chomp on a cigar setting in a bckroom or basement an bottle of bourbon, lose a few win a few. wear hi-top boots. forgot what else i was going to say…. on the far side?

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