Jimmy Gabacho

Being cheap has backfired on me a couple of times when my family has left me to deal with all of their luggage. The worst experience came after a fateful night in the Children’s Hospital in Florence, Italy. I wasn’t the one that was ill, but rather it was my youngest daughter who, in spite of my suggestions to drink more water, became dehydrated from the Mediterranean heat and sun. The heat had a disastrous effect on her digestive system, which at the time was swollen with cheap tourist pizza. The more she ate, the less she digested. The situation came to a head the evening before we were scheduled to catch a train to Rome.

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John Hicks

I said goodbye to the varmints, hugged the folks and tried not to think about all the crap I’d probably forgotten to pack.

Bob Johnson followed me down to the end of the driveway. I rolled down the window of the truck.

“You be good, Bob,” I said. “I’m gone to Texas.”

I didn’t bother trying to explain to Bob Johnson I’d be back in a week or so. How Bob Johnson apprehends time, no one knows. But surely Texas was a concept he could grasp.

Luckily for me, Texas is a large state and hard to miss. I knew if I pointed the truck west and pressed the accelerator, I shouldn’t have too many problems.

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