Dub Wright
Bio
Curmudgeon; overeducated; hack writer; too much time in places not fit for habitation.
Stories (81/0)
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 12
The red fishing boat was tied to the side of a pier. Kip wandered over and looked at the small boat. Kip judged it to be 24 feet or so with deep sides and bait boxes permanently attached to the port side and net storage on the starboard. Two ancient outboard engines looked primed more for distance than speed. An elderly man was seated on the keel slowly mending a net with a long hook device. Kip stood on the pier for several seconds before the old man looked up. He simply nodded to the aft. Kip stepped off the pier and his feet slipped as the boat bobbed. He fell and nearly went overboard. The old man did not look up. Kip sat clumsily on the deck between gas cans and wondered what was next.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 3
Jorge Salas seemed genuinely pleased to see Kip when he knocked on the banker’s office door. “Mr. Smith or is it Mr. Waller? Who are you now?” he said cheerfully. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been to the bank. With the new electronic banking we are beginning to lose touch with so many old friends.” Salas was a short man in a tailored blue suit and matching tie. A thin mustache covered his upper lip and Kip was always amused that Salas sat on a cushion on his office chair.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Bench 24
I first saw her staring at me from an alley along Jawaharlal Road. It was daytime then, and I didn’t consider it flirtiest, as I was a sweat soaked white man obviously looking lost. Her dark eyes had pierced the shadows and seemed to clutch my weak mind. That was yesterday. Now, twelve hours later I am sitting here on a rusted metal bench watching sleeping ferryboats floating in the polluted waters of the Hugli River.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Humans
Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 5
The newspaper notice appeared in the paper on Thursday, the funeral would be Monday. That became significant because Friday morning two black sedans arrived at the Holiday Inn. Kip’s room faced west toward the highway and he had been gazing into the hazy morning. Four men got out who definitely were not salesmen. Kip could tell when one bent over to tie his shoe he was carrying a weapon.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Nelson Gables
Nelson Gables loved to walk along the river. Each day during his walk he would stop by the hotdog stand in the park. There he would purchase a Coney dog and a big orange drink. Then he would walk over to a park table, sit and eat. The only days he missed his trek was when it snowed very hard, or the rain blew in such a way that walking along the river was too difficult.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
Mike Smith is Dead—Pt. 34
A week later, at the Florencia house, Kip and Rosa sat with Giles and Marcos having breakfast. An old Porsche pulled in the driveway and Marcos instinctively stood and walked to the front window tucking his Glock in the back of his jeans. A nice looking young man walked up to the porch and rang the bell. The housekeeper started toward the door but Marcos held up a hand to stop her.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Serve
O'Connell Bridge - Pt. 33 & 34
Handshakes from complete strangers happened every time LC walked past a table. And, after the dinner the birthday congratulations continued. Several women LC didn’t know gave him hugs and men patted him on the back. Clarice stood at the back of the room clutching her purse and apparently observing all that went on.
By Dub Wright5 years ago in Humans