My dad is the greatest. He has lots of weird things about him. And each one makes me love him more. Well, one of his loves are the really old, really bad western movies. They have a tendency to come on late at night and more often than not...he winds up falling asleep on the couch. Last night he was enjoying an extremely raucous western. It was so raucous that I woke up to the screams of women and gunshots. Being disoriented for a moment, sheer terror crept over my body. I envisioned a mother and child being shot, lying on my front porch. What should I do? Should I get up? What if the perpetrator is still lingering outside? Will he see my shadow and gun me down as well? Should I lie here and wait for more noises? Should I dial 911? Then I heard horses and the same coconut induced horse claps that my ears had heard a million times before. I knew I was okay and I went back to sleep.

Also, if you are looking for something to do, F. Simon Grant will be reading his short story, Jazz :0r: Out We Jumped -- to hear the wild tenor man's bawling horn for bop at the Handlebar tonight in G-ville. 8pm.

Monday, August 16, 2004 | 3:38 PM | LINK |