Dub Wright
Bio
Curmudgeon; overeducated; hack writer; too much time in places not fit for habitation.
Stories (81/0)
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 15
Linda looked up from her desk and appeared to stare at Kip and Rosa. “Well, the corporation fairly well protects your property and assets; technically, when you married Rosa all the monies and stock became hers as well. Those assets prior to the marriage and prior to the corporation are liable, and I am checking to see if anything in the company can be tied in too. We just don’t know what agreements the US government may have made with the Tico government.”
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
The Fat Mouse
On the twenty sixth day a small slit in the door opened, revealing a bit of light surrounding a metal cup of water and a chunk of a bolillos, a hard roll. Samuel reached down and pulled the plate to himself, then pushed an empty plate back. For twenty six days, by his count, the routine had been the same. He marked the days by the feeding—one bread and water meal per day. He marked the weeks the same way. One day per week the plate contained boned salt fish; he wasn’t Catholic, but he decided to name fish day, as Friday.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 10
“You mean that guy walking with the big dog is our security?” Rosa peered out the window. “Best I could do on short notice. He’ll be here 'til daylight.” Kip took Rosa’s hand. “Probably unnecessary, but without our security system installed I thought it best.”
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 8
Sam notified Costa Rica Customs that two passengers were deplaning at the private hanger at San Jose airport. So, when they arrived they were bussed over to the normal Custom’s entry area. Their luggage was screened and they were generally waved through. Paulo was waiting curbside when Rosa and Kip walked out of the terminal.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 7
“I had to be escorted. He wouldn’t let me see her without either him or his mother in the room with me.” Tears ran down her face. She spoke as if the law had been quoted to her, “Tennessee law allows a non-custodial parent to spend time with her child under the supervision of another person or at a designated facility. I was treated like a criminal. Then when I said I’d be in town for over a week he said I needed to get a lawyer if I wanted to visit her without supervision and I couldn’t see her at all during the week because of school.”
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 6
Sam pointed at the engine. “If Fed Ex delivers today we can put this back together, test it, and be out of here. Otherwise there might be a war with a delivery company for sure.” She laughed. And, I don’t look good in purple. She waved at the engine. “Previous owner made some unfortunate modifications, I think for the non inspected storage.”
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Sugar Cookies
Shellac and Sugar Cookies Probably a definition is in order. According to an ancient encyclopedia on my bookshelves, Shellac is an all-natural resin secreted by the female lac bug to form a cocoon, on trees in the forests of India and Thailand (tie-land). It is processed and sold as dry flakes, which are dissolved in denatured alcohol to make liquid shellac, which is used as a brush-on colorant and wood finish much like a combination of stain and polyurethane (poly-ur-a-thane). Shellac functions as a tough all-natural primer, sanding sealer, odor-blocker, stain, and high-gloss varnish.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Journal
The Candy Striper
I hadn’t thought about her in over 50 years (dating self); however, sitting in a Waffle House the other morning, I overheard a conversation from a very excited young man. His story was that his son had been in the hospital, and recovered largely because of a Candy Striper. His consternation was that he never learned the name of the young woman who spent so many late night hours with his son. By the way, this is an old story, repeated many times over the years.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Horror
Father of the Year
Sometime in June, the local newspaper will announce the Father of the Year: a dubious honor bestowed upon a man who has been nominated by his family. I have no idea who the judges are, or what qualifications are needed to judge the fatherhood of any other man.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Families
The Watering Can
Audrey filled her flower watering can up to the predetermined level—clearly marked on the outside of the can. She carefully set the can on the footstool near the door, and returned to the kitchen to wipe off the counter. A few minutes later, she returned to the door preparing to go outside and water her plants.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Horror