Role Model © 2018 R.D. Girvan
The horses died first, then the donkey. Well technically, the neighbors died first, followed by their dog. Then the horses and the donkey.
Mike, digging a trench with the backhoe, tried to make himself laugh so he wouldn’t cry. Should have called that stupid donkey ‘Dug’ instead of ‘Doug’, he thought, L – O – fucking – L.
He scooped a fresh bucket of dirt, backhoe lurching as the track caught the edge of the pit. Through the dusty windshield, he could see his wife stagger across the yard. His laugh crumpled up and died in his throat.
Hello, Gang of Glorious Readers (both of you! haha), Rhea here.
I am entering stories into contests, some of which do not allow any publication of any kind, even on a baby blog like mine. So if you would like to read the entire story, send me your email address and I will forward it to you.
Best always, RDG
This is awesome! Glad to see your work!
thank you thank you!
Wow! R.D. this is quite a start on your year’s journey! Love the feel of this piece; love the wry, down home, country atmosphere. I am now curious about Mike and an elaboration of his universe. Come to think of it, I feel that you have put the reader right in the middle of an interesting yarn. I feel that I need to know more about the people and the environment that have spawned this vignette. I also ‘dig’ Mike’s farm machine and the relationship he has with it. You have introduced in this post, several itches which need to be scratched with further exploration of this enigmatic beginning.
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Thank you, Garry!
I truly wondered where all the fragments were going, then you wrapped them into a most intriguing story. Great job!!
Thank you, Joy!