Friday, August 28, 2015

I’m going to make sure the address of the Gazette is somewhere in this post. That just for anyone that wants to read the whole article.

Me? I loved the Editors Note. Of course, the imposing mother-in-law was the unhappy marriage, I’m almost sure.

Tales of Butler County: Quarrel culminates in killing

Butler County Times Gazette
– ‎19 hours ago‎

Editor’s note: This is the first of a two-part series. The conclusion will be in Saturday’s Times-Gazette issue. It is a story of an unhappy marriage, a meddlesome mother-in-law and violent tempers.

You know the old saying: “It’s funny because it’s true.”


The old station opened this morning. This was, I found late last evening, she is having two official openings. One this day and the other on the Labor Day Monday.

The old station, I suppose I should explain, is one of those old building, fewer now, that one could see abandoned along highways and roads. It opened as a gas station, the highway was by-passed as a major road, and the gas station folded.

It reconstituted itself as a small engine repair shop and that folded. It then remained empty for a couple of tens of years and was purchased and sold many times – there is always a group somewhere vie-ing with one another to buy cheap and sell dear, until the fun runs short anyhow.

I use to listen to the group tell one another how they were beaten to a buy, or how one did another in on a deal. Friendly competition, taken dead seriously with real money.

Eventually the old station was purchased by a lesbian lady for a “Day Cabin”. A neighboring property refused to allow an easement across his property for sewer and the village refused to run water across the intersection for a reasonable fee, so the lady sold the house to the speculators again and she moved on.

One of the local farm wives, from Northeast Kansas had seen the old station when she married and her hubby brought  her down here. At the time she told her hubby that the old station was hers. It was just like the one her father had.

And so it is. She’s turned it into what she wanted now that her and hubby’s circumstances allow and the neighbor has allowed the sewer and the village the water.

The village went so far as to remind the neighboring property the land the sewer would cross was not his, but village property.

Small towns are like Boards of Education – political in most everything.

As the Valley Girls would say: “Fore suure. Fore suure.”


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

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.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s