• geronima •

• geronima •
The ‘significant bother’ found me with a straight razor to my throat, her reflection turning up in my mirror out of nowhere.
“Don’t let me stop you.” She said.
“Holy fuck!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Goddammit. She’d snuck up on me again. Injuns. That lank, blue-black hair. That shit eating grin.
“Don’t ever DO that!!” I shouted into the mirror, reaching for the styptic pencil to staunch the blood. She danced away, ‘counting coup’, holding up a finger, and a thumb. Fuck me, that’s two.
She’s got me so jumpy these days, I’m thinking of growing a beard. I’ll stop when it reaches down to Boss’ scruffy head: turning up, as is her want, these days, practically out of thin air. Stealthy she is. Two up on me. Geronimo’s spirit-sister, deux, Custer’s over caffeinated cringing second cousin, once removed, by the look of things, never to return again, nil. I never should have jumped out at her from beneath those goddamn stairs. Goddamn.
“It’s called shaving,” I found myself forced to say. “The lather, at least, should give that away.”
~ Tim Burchfield


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