Treading the Pecos Range

Diary entry: We were travelling the Pecos wilderness, we got split up in a high wind storm, our horses had bolted, after three days I found one of the horses, but he had taken lame after only a few miles, I had tried to find the other members of our party to no avail, well, when a horse takes lame, he has to be shot but I didn’t have the heart to do it, as I knelt beside Old Flowie, a dirty old hermit-looking guy approached on a mule, it was my lucky day, he said he would shoot my beloved Old Flowie for me if he could have the meat, we struck up a deal and this is where the story gets weird, I had actually worked with this guy back in the seventies, it was hard times, it was during the big Christmas layoffs and we were drowning our misfortunes where we usually went, the High Point Bar and Grill, out in Farmington, well, a lot of recently laid off men drank there, and one night, some guy brought his dog in and he was drinking with it near the end of the bar, well, a fight broke out, a real melee, tables were being overturned, lamps were being broken, anyway, this bronze bust of some guy, Lord Calvert, Mr. Kessler, I always thought it was that kid in the Bazooka Bubble Gum comics, anyway, it got knocked off the wall and it fell on this guy’s dog and injured him beyond repair, we all knew the dog had to be put out of it’s misery, but no one could do anything about it, that’s when this same guy came in and said he’d do it if he could keep the meat… Diary entry: Well, its’s turned out to be the kind of day today when you wish you had cut your arteries out before you went to bed last night, please allow Paulie to explain, hang on a second, I hear the Hound of Deerfield Avenue howling outside, Mrs. Moore’s voice carries throughout the whole neighborhood, the Moore’s live down the street, Paulie avoids the Moore’s, especially after dark… Diary entry: Paulie gets so tired of the same old complaints from the neighbors, empty beer cans in their yard, cat crap in their mailboxes, golf balls in their gutters, can’t we all just try and get along, well, Paulie is the peacemaker but it seems no one wants true peace, well, this is Paulie, signing off and saying to those he loves, peace, love, and rest to you, and shalom, the rest of you, go to hell… Diary entry: Now Tombstone, Arizona Territory, was full of gunfighters and they had a place where they buried the men who ran into other men who shot them because they all spent too much time in the saloon, Boot Hill, well, there was a town next door that was run by women who didn’t get along any better, they had a place where they buried the dead losers too, it was called House Slipper Hill, yes, this is the story of a place called Broomstone, Arizona Territory, I was there, and this is my story…

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