Friend of Your Father

The bum sitting with  my brother was filthy, his grizzled beard stained with food and tobacco. He fixed me with his blue eyes.

“Got us a visitor,” he said through his gash mouth. He had no teeth and sounded like the gaunt prospector from some western.

“Who’s this old fuck?” I asked BB. ” Jesus? Solomon?”

The man sat up  His twisted left leg seemed to pain him when he moved. “Name’s Danny. I am holed up here for a spell. You brother’s a Samaritan. Been bringing me food and keeping me company.”

“Danny was friends with Pop,” said BB.  “In the Navy.”


Friday Fictioneers

9 thoughts on “Friend of Your Father

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.