FFF #30
In the purple and gray morning Les heard the last hoot of an owl somewhere in the woods behind his house. He was sitting on the back porch steps, drinking coffee and smoking cigarette after cigarette, waiting for the first sound of the hawk that had been flying overhead for three mornings now. He picked up his deer rifle and snapped the lens cover off the scope and put it in his shirt pocket.
Marge, his wife, stepped out of the kitchen door, her old paisley gown wrapped around her. "You got any cigarettes left, hon?"
Les stood up and turned sideways to look at her and keep his good right ear peeled for the sounds up in the sky. "Hell no...must've smoked 'em all," he lied.
"You never think about anyone but yourself! Goddammit, I'm getting dressed and running over to Lilly's for coffee."
"Get the hell out of here then," he said, "you're yelling will run off everything in the woods."
She slammed the door and he pointed the rifle at it and said, "Bang, bang, bitch!" then turned and walked out into the back yard. The sky was starting to lighten into blue and an orange light was starting to finger through the woods as the sun broke the horizon.
From above he heard the distinct cry of the hawk flying in somewhere high from the north.
He walked over to the phoney well Marge had made him place back there; for the 'old timey' look, she'd said, and he shouldered the rifle and used the roof of the well to steady it. The hawk screamed once again as it cleared the top of the trees and he followed it in his scope and when the cross hairs were just right, Les pulled the trigger. A shot rang out as he squeezed the trigger but the rifle misfired.
"What the hell?" he said as he dropped the rifle and felt his chest explode with pain. He turned as he fell and saw Marge smiling at him as she pulled the trigger on the three-fifty-seven one more time.
She walked over to him, dropped the pistol on the ground beside his body then stooped down and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. "Liar," she said, lit up a cigarette and watched as the hawk circled high above and then flew off in the direction of the rising sun.
Marge, his wife, stepped out of the kitchen door, her old paisley gown wrapped around her. "You got any cigarettes left, hon?"
Les stood up and turned sideways to look at her and keep his good right ear peeled for the sounds up in the sky. "Hell no...must've smoked 'em all," he lied.
"You never think about anyone but yourself! Goddammit, I'm getting dressed and running over to Lilly's for coffee."
"Get the hell out of here then," he said, "you're yelling will run off everything in the woods."
She slammed the door and he pointed the rifle at it and said, "Bang, bang, bitch!" then turned and walked out into the back yard. The sky was starting to lighten into blue and an orange light was starting to finger through the woods as the sun broke the horizon.
From above he heard the distinct cry of the hawk flying in somewhere high from the north.
He walked over to the phoney well Marge had made him place back there; for the 'old timey' look, she'd said, and he shouldered the rifle and used the roof of the well to steady it. The hawk screamed once again as it cleared the top of the trees and he followed it in his scope and when the cross hairs were just right, Les pulled the trigger. A shot rang out as he squeezed the trigger but the rifle misfired.
"What the hell?" he said as he dropped the rifle and felt his chest explode with pain. He turned as he fell and saw Marge smiling at him as she pulled the trigger on the three-fifty-seven one more time.
She walked over to him, dropped the pistol on the ground beside his body then stooped down and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. "Liar," she said, lit up a cigarette and watched as the hawk circled high above and then flew off in the direction of the rising sun.
posted by porchwise at 5:00 PM
9 Comments:
Every once in a while a story comes along that reminds me sharing is a good thing...
Bravo.
Funny, I wrote about a bird of prey that had been rescued from some ignorant activity like the one your main character engages in.
Maybe the story opener inspired bird tales?
Pretty funny. I don't usually advocate murder, but I'm glad to see Les get his comeuppance.
I didn't see it coming.
The ladies were on a rampage this week--Nicely done. =)
Good work. That's what he gets for using a rifle to hunt birds.
chelene: nothing makes a smoker madder than someone not sharing, especially a husband.
spinning girl: Your story got me thinking about the hawk, thanks again
james: the look on your face is kind of what the look on Les' face looked like when he took the shot.
beth: around my home, they usually are
justacoolcat: around here (Alabama) the first thing a father hands his kid is a BB gun and tells him to go out and kill a few birds. Drives my wife nuts
Is the lady in the story related to Vice President Cheney? Maybe the dude he shot lied about not having anymore cigarettes either....
Thanks for the smile today.
don't know how i missed it last week, but i love this.
walk good.
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