Stories (964)
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Bank Heist
Today was Shellie's last day at the bank. She'd been working there for ten years but had given her notice two weeks ago. That's when she decided she needed a change of pace and she was going to move to someplace in the Caribbean. She had just saved enough money to buy a little lean-to property and maybe invest in a business down there if she played her cards right. Of course with enough left over to support her needs and some wants.
By Mother Combs3 years ago in Fiction
Foxy the Testosterone Squirrel
Years ago, when I was a boy of eight years, Dad worked in the woods as a logger. He'd go into the woods at the crack of dawn and cut down trees until he used all the chainsaw mixture that he carried in one of those 3-gallon aluminum gas cans.
By Mother Combs3 years ago in Fiction
Attic Cleanout
Ben Miller had inherited his Uncle John's house. Ben, unfortunately, wasn't too happy about his inheritance. First, it was an extremely tiny lot in the worst part of town. Second, the house had seen way better days, and now was suffering from wood rot and was leaning worse than the Tower of Pisa. Ben wasn't even sure if any of the contents could be salvaged, or if he'd have to toss them all out to the curb for the trash man to pick up. Ben was just tempted to call the fire department and burn the whole mess, but his curiosity had won out and he'd decided not to. Besides, he'd just lost his job of fifteen years, and the job market wasn't looking too promising right now for any job offers coming his way, so he had nothing better to do.
By Mother Combs3 years ago in Fiction
Bumper Crop
14-year-old Vance went door to door, room to room, waking his two brothers and three sisters up before 5 A.M. on a Saturday. Each one he shook awake he told to meet him in his room as soon as they were dressed, he was calling a Sibling Meeting. As the eldest of the Frick children, this was his right. None of the children complained, they all knew better, even the youngest, Lulubell who only just turned 5 years last month.
By Mother Combs4 years ago in Fiction
Thin Ice
Whompf! Splat, Marcellus took a massive snowball to the face. "What are YOU doing here, Mar-ceeel-luss?" He looked at Jon Price and shrugged his massive shoulders as he wiped the wet snow from his face. They both knew Jon wasn't talking about Sherman's Hill; he was talking about Clyburn. Marcellus was born in Minneapolis, so he didn't belong here. If his parents hadn’t both contacted Covid and died last year, he wouldn't be here at all. But this is where the social worker sent him when she could not find a relative willing to take him in. He didn't hold it against his relatives; they all had large families to supply, and one more mouth would have been way too much for them.
By Mother Combs5 years ago in Fiction
