Ink

I like this pen.  It’s pretty nice, for a giveaway pen.  The tube is green and transparent.  It has a rubber writing grip near the retractable point.

There are many reasons I’m writing with a pen this week.  Family emergency.  I’ve been killing a lot of time in places where I don’t usually write.

The pen says: Cash USA – $500 Cash Now – Ask How.  Phone number.

As for the family emergency, everyone is fine.

I have a great family.  We may be a bunch of Hicks, but we’re troopers.  Whatever life dishes out, we can take.  We will bitch and moan at a later date, but, when the chips are down, we kick ass.

My parents’ kitchen.  An unusual place to find myself alone.  The clock ticks rhythmically.  The warming oven ticks arrhythmically.  The refrigerator cycles on and off.  The pilot in the gas heater makes a pleasant swooshing sound.  Birdsong through the open window.  The sun rises over the barn.  I can feel it on my back.

Better send Mark a text, see what’s going on at the hospital.

Me: Good mornin dad still asleep bob ate porch cushion

My Bro: Well good for bob. The 600 dollar dog … all good here.  Mom has good appetite and eating breakfast now. Nurse said should be able to roll after lunch

Me: 10-4 let me know if you need anything did u bring running shoes?

My Bro: Hell yeah we gonna get our run on later

Me: Big 10-4 on that, Bandit

CB radio smack.  That’s how you know the crisis has been contained.

To be accurate, Bob Johnson destroyed two cushions from the folks’ porch furniture last night.  I don’t think he actually digested any of it.  It’s much more fun to spread the tatters of cloth and clumps of stuffing across the entire yard.  My mother will forgive him, of course.  He’s The Golden Mutt.

The red-tailed hawk that frequents the tall trees around the barn sends out his cry.  The neighborhood crows jabber back at him.

Another day in paradise.

John Hicks lives outside the city limits, where eagles dare.

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