The Orbit: The Online Drive-in of Champion Mojo Storyteller Joe R. Lansdale

` The Orbit: The Online Drive-in of Champion Mojo Storyteller Joe R. Lansdale

This brief collection (four stories) is what I hope will be the beginning of a larger book of Leonard stories that loosely catalogue events in his life. They would form a kind of biography and would be from Leonard's viewpoint instead of Hap Collins, who is their usual biographer. Hap and Leonard are in some ways Watson and Watson in a darker universe. Neither rises to the intellectual level of Holmes, but both are smart and resourceful in their own way and are a great duo to not only give a reader thrills, but to ponder social issues in an offhand way, and sometimes directly. What I enjoy is that though both characters are popular, and though Hap usually tells the tales, Leonard is as important and as central as Hap. Readers of their adventures seem to love them equally. They are an odd couple. Those who follow their stories know that and know why, so I won't go into their backgrounds here. They shouldn't be thought odd, actually, but they certainly were when they first appeared on the scene many years back. One thing for sure, Leonard and Ole Hap are my favorites of all my characters. Even if I might argue I like a certain book of mine better than a Hap and Leonard book, I must admit that all my books are somewhat usurped by these two guys. A common comment from readers is, Man, I loved The Bottoms (or Paradise Sky, or Edge of Dark Water, or The Thicket, etc.) but often at the end of this nice statement is, When is the next Hap and Leonard?

Thank goodness.

One last comment. My characters age, but not in real time. When I'm not writing about them they don't age at all. I can go years between Hap and Leonard books. This baffles some readers and surprises me. A lot of fictional series characters don't age. That's part of the conceit after a certain point, or don't seem to. There's more to it than that, but take that as a guide in your reading of Hap and Leonard stories.

One thing I enjoy about stories like this, which are in the vein of the stories in Blood and Lemonade and Of Mice and Minestrone, is that I can go back in time and look at them before they were truly who they became. I like to think we are not the product of one movie moment when we realize what we are all about, but instead are the product of many little moments that add their weight to the scale that sends our life in one direction or the other.

Right now the Leonard book is merely a thought, but these short stories from Leonard's life will give you some preview of how he became who he became, and collectively, why.

The Night Before

Leonard Pine had on a big, gray fishing hat and loose clothes and his lace-up boots. He had his fishing gear in the back of his pickup.

He drove out to the river, took a back road through the woods. Tomorrow he was to leave. He had joined the army and he was on his way to Vietnam. No one had said that, but that was the deal. He knew that. Joined up, odds were good you got a visit to jungle country. He had cousins who had gone, and one of them had come home in a box and had been buried out at Lake Shift Manor.

Leonard had no idea what a Lake Shift was, and the cemetery was hardly about a manor, though there was one on the property. That’s where the workers kept equipment and there was an office there. An office for the dead and dying. Tied to some funeral home or something. The business of death.

Leonard felt it was his duty to go to war. His friend Hap Collins had refused to go. Had refused, being a conscientious objector. He was against the Vietnam War, would have fought in World War Two, he said. He was damn sure a fighter. They had had each other’s back on more than one occasion. Hap was fast and he could hit hard. And would do just that if you messed with him. Hap liked to think he was more peaceful than he really was. He was also a straight guy that didn’t care Leonard was gay. Leonard didn’t tell the military that. They wouldn’t have signed him up to do what he thought of as his patriotic duty if he had. Thing was, Hap, straight as he was, didn’t care about straight or gay. He might think being gay sounded a little off-trail, but then again Leonard felt the same way about straight sex, straight relationships. What did men see in women? Personally, he could see liking one, but what was the sexual attraction about? He didn’t get that.

The river was calm that day and the sun was bright. He drove down deeper into the woods and parked in a clearing near the water. He had a spot in mind that might have fewer mosquitoes. He had a stool with him, in the truck bed, and he could already imagine sitting on the stool and casting his line into the water, maybe catching a fish or two to put on the stringer. Having lunch when the sun got high. The sandwiches and Coke’s he had in the cooler on the passenger seat. He’d come back to the pickup to eat lunch.

Leonard wondered why he hadn’t asked Hap to come with him. They fished together all the time, and if he caught fish, he’d have shared them with him for dinner tonight. Tomorrow, early, he was on his way to Dallas to be picked up by the bus that would take him off to boot camp. He probably wouldn’t see Hap again until after he had done his stint. Might even sign up for more than one stint. He hadn’t made up his mind. If he didn’t get caught fucking some soldier with similar inclinations as himself, he just might do that. If he didn’t get killed, he might do that. Maybe he would never see Hap again. Could be, he came back from being over there they might not have the same connection. Hap being off to prison for not going to war, and him having fought in one. It could change perspectives.

Leonard wasn’t entirely sure what their attraction was. No sexual interest. He was too gay and Hap was too straight.

Steadfastness, perhaps. Sticking to their beliefs? He felt a brotherly tie to Hap and he felt Hap had the same with him.

Leonard got his stool and fishing goods and then he put his butt on the stool and stared out at the water. It was brown with mud. The Sabine was always brown. There were lots of fish out there, along with snakes and frogs and turtles and the occasional human crap that assholes tossed in the water. The water smelled of wet earth and dead fish and decaying foliage. It was a smell unlike any other. Did the Sabine smell different from other rivers? Did all rivers smell like that?

He fished for a couple of hours and didn’t catch a damn thing. It grew hot. It hadn’t been as much fun as he hoped. Nothing had been much fun of late. He felt empty inside and would be glad to muster out. Maybe “muster" meant later, when you actually finished training and were on your way home. He wasn’t sure. Yeah. That was probably it. Maybe “deployed" was the word he was looking for. He was going to train and then be deployed.

Was he made of the right stuff? How would he face someone trying to kill him? Would he hesitate? He didn’t think so, but as his uncle used to say, you don’t know what you’ll do in a situation until you do it.

He carried his stuff back to the truck, put it in the bed. The food in the cooler didn’t appeal to him. He didn’t want to stay until near dark as he originally thought. He drove away from there and drove out to the Dairy Queen. He didn’t go inside out of habit. The Civil Rights laws said he could but it could start something. It had started something before, and today he wasn’t up to it. He had to be all right come morning. He went through the drive-through and got a hamburger and some fries, a large Coke with ice. He drove out to his place and sat at the kitchen table and had his lunch. All around him were boxes he had packed for his uncle to come pick up. The TV was still hooked up, few other things lying around, the furniture that went with the place. Rented stuff, so that stayed. TV was his, soon to be his uncle's.

He supposed he would have other hamburgers before he actually went to Vietnam, but he wasn’t sure. He tried to enjoy this one, slowing down and savoring each bite. The fries were crisp. He dipped them in ketchup and wondered about a lot of things, not all of them good. Most of them not-so-good. He had signed up, hadn’t been drafted like Hap. Maybe he should have gone to college and got a deferment. Hap had one and dropped out to be drafted, to make a statement. What a dumb ass. 'Course, another reason behind all that was lack of money for college, and his freshly married wife, Trudy. Trudy was big on resistance to just about everything. She thought Hap should show his feelings by going to prison. She thought it was the ultimate protest. Not going. Doing that stretch. 'Course, she wasn’t the one being drafted. Hap got into prison, Leonard figured she’d fold like a circus tent. He could smell that about her. She liked being in love more than loving.

Wasn’t his problem, but he thought about it anyway. Poor Hap. Ruled by his pecker. He was on his way to prison. No one was going to arrest him. He was supposed to check in. Tomorrow they would both be catching buses, but to very different locations.

Leonard finished up his fries and went into the living room and turned on the TV. He got the news. Things were bad in 'Nam. Soldiers were dying. He got over there, maybe he could change things. He’d be like Sgt. Rock. Maybe get so he could lead a squad. “Follow me, boys.”

No. That was comic-book shit. Thing was, do your service and do it well and don’t get killed trying to be a comic-book hero.

Leonard got sick of the news and tried to find something to watch, but knowing what he was doing tomorrow, everything but the news seemed silly.

He started to call Hap, but he would be with Trudy. They would be talking about how they were changing the world. Hell, they just might.

Hap would want his last night with his new wife. There would be a lot of serious fucking and pontificating between fucks.

Maybe he should just call him to say goodbye.

No. They’d done that. Promised to go fishing when the war was over. Hap said, “I’ll be out, and you’ll be coming out not far behind me. I got eighteen months to do, you a little longer. I’ll pick you up at the bus station and we’ll go fishing.”

It was a plan. A simple one. But a good one. And it would probably never happen.

Leonard stripped off in the bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. He thought he looked pretty good and hoped he’d come back with all his pieces intact. Save the dick, he thought. Lose a limb, but for goodness sake save the dick.

He put on a pair of shorts and picked a Western novel from his nightstand and lay in bed to read it. It took a while for him to get into it, but at some point, he realized as he neared the end of it, the light had faded.

He turned on the lamp beside the bed, finished the book. He got up, went into the kitchen. He picked up the phone that was fastened to the wall, called.

Hap answered.

“I felt I ought to say bye again.”

“I was feeling the same. I was going to call you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We got that fishing trip when I’m out. When you’re out. I don’t know who might get killed easiest, you in prison or me in 'Nam.”

“It’s a tough choice, either way.”

“Didn’t either of us have to do it,” Leonard said. “Well, maybe I did. You could have gone to the Army.”

“You know I won’t.”

“You could have stayed in college.”

“Couldn’t afford it, really. And, you know—”

“You wanted to make statement.”

“Yeah.”

“You sound a little less certain right now.”

“In the moment, maybe I am a little less certain.”

“Me, too.”

“We’ll be all right.”

“You sound damn certain all of a sudden after not sounding certain at all.”

“I’m not certain. I’m trying to talk a good game.”

“I’ll miss East Texas, prejudice and all. At least, in prison, you might have someone to snuggle with.”

“Not anyone I’d want to snuggle with.”

“A warm hole can be a warm hole on a cold night.”

“Not for me.”

Leonard heard Trudy calling Hap to come see something or another. He knew she wanted Hap off the phone. He hated Trudy, way she did Hap. But Hap was a grown man, made his own choices.

“Something happens to either of us, one of us gets killed. I want a promise from you,” Leonard said.

“What’s that?”

“That one or the other will piss on the other’s grave for being stupid and noble.”

Hap laughed. Leonard thought it was a brotherly laugh. “Deal.”

“Goodbye, Hap.”

“Goodbye, Leonard.”

It was not long dark but Leonard decided he’d had enough. He went to bed and slept until four in the morning. He had the last of his coffee and ate one of the sandwiches when he woke up.. His uncle could do as he would with the coffeepot.

At six-thirty he went out and got one of the sandwiches out of the cooler. It was damn nasty. There wouldn’t be any breakfast.

He drove over to his cousin’s house and his cousin rode with him to the bus station. He left the truck keys with his cousin and took his small bag out of the back of the truck.

“Take care of the truck,” Leonard said.

“You be careful over there,” his cousin said.

“I’ll be all right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m draft age. Got a high number. But who knows, it might come up eventually. We could see each other in Vietnam.”

“Yeah. Probably won’t. It’s a really high number you got.”

“Keep your head down.”

“Know I will. Well, I better catch the bus.”

“Sure.”

They shook hands, bumped fists. Leonard smiled and walked into the station. He was only sitting on the bench for a moment when they called his bus. It was arriving.

Leonard walked out the door he had come in and looked around. He wanted to look for some reason. He could see a few trees and the air smelled of diesel as the buses came and went. He went back inside and out the back where the bus was being boarded.

At least he didn’t have to ride in the back anymore. And wouldn’t even if some cracker thought he should. He sat down by a young black woman who immediately took a liking to him.

She had no idea.

She tried to talk but Leonard didn’t talk back much, and about the time they were going through Tyler she gave up.

Leonard leaned his head back against the seat. The sunlight was becoming brighter and was warming his face. He felt like he had something in his eye.

He wiped at it.

The bus rolled on steady and the tires hummed Leonard to sleep and he dreamed of catching great fish out of the Sabine River.

In the Ditch

Leonard lay in the ditch beside the trail and tried not to move as the firepower tore through the trees, taking off leaves and limbs and even small trees, causing some of the debris to fall in the ditch on top of him.

On the edge of the ditch Leonard could see the guts of Tim Gunther dangling into the ditch. Leaves were stuck to the guts and Gunther was on the ridge of the ditch with a big hole through him. One of his arms hung into the ditch and he looked as if he might slide off into it. Gunther’s head was turned toward Leonard. The eyes were open but there was nothing there. Leonard didn’t know where the others were. If they were alive or dead. He wasn’t even sure how they had gotten separated.

The gunfire went on for a good time. Leonard had an urge to rise up with his rifle and cut loose, but he knew it was useless, the way the fire was being laid down on his position. Maybe they were sneaking up on him right now. There didn’t seem to be a right thing to do.

Finally, he chose to crawl along inside the ditch. He crawled away from where Gunther lay and waited. He thought they wouldn’t know he had moved. He wasn’t sure it mattered. If he raised up, they’d see him and cut his head off with gunfire.

He laid on his back with his gun held close to him, hoping if someone stuck a head over the edge of the ditch he’d see them and be able to shoot. He figured this was it.

He heard the sound of a jet way up high, and then it was low and there was a whooshing sound and the daylight turned even brighter and burst into an orange wave of heat. The heat was so warm it singed his hair.

He lay there for a while. Even lying in the ditch on his back he could feel the heat and see the orange, flickering glow. It took some time and some courage, but finally he peeked over the edge of the ditch.

Across the trail and into the woods there was a great wave of fire, a strip of flame that was wide and long. The forest was on fire. The wave of napalm had missed him by some distance, but when it’s napalm, it can be like horseshoes and hand grenades. Close can count. It had burned the back of Gunther’s hair off as with a blowtorch. In a scraggly, blackened tree, caught up in it, he could see bones and a skull with flesh dripping off of it like wet, charcoal-colored paint. The bones fell apart and dusted on the ground.

Down the trail a way, a man came out of the forest. He was naked and his hair and clothes were gone. His forehead was peeled back to the bone. His dick was a black stump. His hands were burned off. He had both eyes though. He was looking at Leonard. He was one of the Cong and he was in shock and beyond that.

Leonard rose completely up and shot him in the chest. Dropped him. It’s what he would have wanted. It wasn’t about killing the enemy then. It was a show of mercy.

He looked around for others. He didn’t see others. He didn’t see any more bones. He went over and put his weapon on the ground and hoisted Gunther completely out of the ditch, used his knife to cut the guts loose from him. They sloshed into the ditch.

Leonard hoisted Gunther onto his shoulders, squatted and picked up his rifle and started carrying the body out, hoping to find their line.

Bus Ride Home

Leonard sat on the bus. He was on his way home. Soon he would see family and friends. He wondered if Hap would actually remember to pick him up at the bus station. He wondered a lot of things.

He thought about things he had seen and done and then tried not to think about them, but the thoughts maintained, uninvited.

He had to never question what he had done. He couldn't slice and dice it to fit something else. He had to hold it solid and say it was okay.

He would never question it. He might not be able to live happily if he questioned it. It wasn't that he was without doubt, down deep, but he pushed that doubt even deeper. He had done what he had done and it was all right. It was what his country wanted. It's what a man did. It's what he wanted to believe. He couldn't unbelieve it, because if he did it would all seem horrible and he would feel horrible and feel that he was horrible and his soul, if there was such a thing, would fly off into space, cold amongst the black and ever-dwindling stars. It was what it was and it was done and you had to accept that you made choices and then you had to live with them. That was the Cowboy way, his uncle told him that. Don't spend your life reworking things you've done, good or bad. Move on. Move on solid and certain and unquestioning.

When he closed his eyes and put his head back against the seat, he saw bodies jump and villages burn. He saw napalm roar hot through the jungle. He saw red streaks across the night sky. It wasn't like a John Wayne movie at all. He wanted to be the greatest soldier that ever lived when he signed up. Six months later he just wanted to survive and help his fellow soldiers survive. He felt both good and bad about coming home. He had some medals. Somehow they seemed made of smoke.

The war was lost, and sometimes he thought he was, too. Don't think that way, he thought. You can't think that way.

Leonard Walks into a Bar

Leonard Pine walked into the bar and looked around for his cousin, Jay. His Uncle Chester had sent him over to check on him. Jay Pine was a distant cousin, twice removed or some such, but his uncle cared about him, and asked him to go over and see how things were, as word from a friend was Jay wasn’t doing so good.

Jay was a hair slow, and he didn’t always understand correctly. Worse, he was a drunk. He used to have his mother to look after him, but she died and once Jay got his freedom and a job on the town garbage trucks, he wasn’t listening to anyone anymore, and if there was someone out there that needed to listen, it was Jay. He usually spent his weekly pay on drink, and rumor was tonight wasn’t any different. Rumor was correct.

Leonard saw Jay standing at the end of the bar. The place was packed with black men and a couple of black women who were hustling drinks. In this bar everyone was a hustler. There was a man at the end of the bar. Leonard knew him. Trevor Pine. He too was a distant cousin. Leonard liked the idea he was distant, and if he could have wished it so, he’d have wished him even farther away.

The place wasn’t full dark, and you could see alright after a moment or two, but the light was dusty and smoky and there were red and blue neon, curlicue lights around the big mirror behind the long bar and it made those sitting on stools in front of it look color-striped. The air was warm and smelled of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The smoke made Leonard’s eyes water. A couple of placards on the wall next to the mirror behind the bar had advice about not asking for credit and how all bar bills were to be paid in cash. There was also a calendar that had “1974" in bold, red letters at the top. A big, white clock with black hands hung above the mirror and it was faintly colored by the neon. There was a small, wooden picture frame without a glass next to the clock, and the frame had nothing in it. Leonard remembered there used to be a dollar in it; the first the bar had earned, but now it was gone. Times got hard from time to time.

The others at the bar all had their heads turned toward Trevor and Jay and a man next to Trevor was laughing. Trevor was saying, “Now, you want me to buy you a drink, Jaybird, you little rummy, you got to say it right. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, how many peppers did Peter Piper pick.”

Jay, a lanky young man who was already on his way to premature aging, gave it a try. “Peder Piber pigged a peg of piggled pebbers…”

“No, goddamnit,” Trevor said. “Get the sock out of your mouth. Get it right, I’ll give you a drink.”

Trevor was pouring a bit of whiskey into the ashtray in front of him. A few cigarette butts were floating in it like drowning victims. “There you are, it’s waiting on you when you say it right.”

Leonard walked over to the end of the bar with spilled beer sticking to the bottoms of his cowboy boots, making a sound like someone tearing duct tape off Naugahyde, and said, “That’s all right, Jay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, Leonard Pine, as I live and breathe,” Trevor said swiveling on his stool. “You still sucking dicks?”

“Every chance I get. You still eating shit?”

“You know what? I don’t have to put up with a queer talking that way to me.”

“You might.”

“He’s a queer?” the man sitting on stool next to Trevor said.

“Does a dog lick its own ass?” Trevor said.

“Now that’s something,” said the man. He was a tough-looking guy, short and stout and black as obsidian with neon light making the sweat on his face shine blue and red. “He don’t look like a queer.”

“I’m in disguise,” Leonard said.

“I ought to knock your queer self on your butt,” the man said and looked over his shoulder to smile at the young man on his left, looking for a responsive audience. The young man didn’t respond, just drank his beer.

“Way I figure,” Leonard said looking at the man, “Trevor is going to take a beating pretty sure. Are you trying to tell me you need one too?”

“Got to figure a pansy can’t be too tough,” said the man. He laughed in Trevor’s direction this time.

“No doubt you could take him,” Trevor said.

“I can handle a queer, you can be sure of that.”

Leonard popped the man in the mouth with a left jab so hard the man stood up off the stool, then fell back over it, hitting the man next to him with his feet as they flew up.

The young man stood up off his stool. “You got a problem?” Leonard asked.

“Just him falling on me,” said the young man. “I don’t care who sucks dick or eats shit.” The young man left the bar.

A chocolate-brown woman who looked like ice cream scoops stacked on top of one another then shoved into a dress, said, “Damn.”

Trevor was watching Leonard, and Leonard was watching him in the mirror.

“Pretty lucky hit,” Trevor said.

“I get lucky a lot,” Leonard said, and turned so he was facing Trevor. Jay was standing at the end of the bar eyeing the whisky in the ashtray. “Don’t do it,” Leonard said to Jay. Jay placed both hands on the end of the bar and took a deep breath. He swayed a little.

“He wants it,” Trevor said. “He’s already had drinks out of it. He got a couple things I asked him right.”

“Digent hurd me none,” Jay said.

“Yeah it did,” Leonard said.

“He’s all right,” Trevor said.

“I say he isn’t.”

“Who are you to say shit to anyone, cocksucker.”

“Want to find out who I am?”

“I might.”

“Anytime you feel you got the nuts for it, come and get you some.”

“I wand a drank” Jay said.

“No, you don’t,” Leonard said.

“Ah, hell,” Trevor said. “Let him have it. He gets funny when he’s drunk.”

“I wand one,” Jay said.

“I tell you, you don’t. Go over there and sit in that chair by the wall, Jay.”

Jay studied Leonard for a moment, then goofy-stepped over to the chair and sat as if he had been dropped into the chair by airplane. “I coulda had nuther drink.”

“Watch him, Jay” Trevor said. “Gets you outside, he’ll hold you down and suck your dick.”

Leonard said, “You’re all kinds of half-wit, aren’t you?”

“I thought it was pretty funny.”

“Let me ask you something, Trevor,” Leonard said. “You say you been giving Jay drinks out of that ashtray.”

“He likes it okay.”

“He’s a drunk. Drunk enough, he likes anything. Don’t do it anymore. Ever.”

“You gonna monitor him rest of your life.”

“I thought I might give you some instructions about not doing it.”

“Y’all take it outside,” the bartender said. He’d been on the far end, and now he came down the back of the bar carrying a ball bat. He was a big man with a bald head and a hairlip.

The chocolate double-dip woman at the bar said, “That ain’t good.”

“Butch, you know me,” Leonard said. “I’m not in the mood. Put the ball bat up. It’ll fit behind the counter easier than it’ll fit up your ass.”

“I’m just saying,” Butch said. “I don’t want anything in here broke. Ain’t no need to talk to me like that.”

“A need can arise,” Leonard said.

“That’s true,” Butch said, and went back down the length of the bar and put the bat under it.

“Hell, Butch, what’d you do that for? He ain’t so tough,” Trevor said.

“Viewpoints on that have been discussed,” Butch said. “Me, I’ve seen him when he’s riled.”

“Have you now,” Trevor said.

“Yep.”

“Shit,” said the woman who had spoken before. “This ain’t good.” She didn’t move her elbows off the bar, though. Her fingers were wrapped around a glass of beer and she looked into as if she had just discovered a fly doing the backstroke.

“Step outside, Trevor? Save Butch some glass?”

Trevor’s mouth moved from side to side, like he was chewing consequences. “I was joshing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No call for it, now.”

“You wanted it, now you don’t. You just want to pick on a drunk 'cause he won’t fight back. You’re a coward.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Ah, Leonard,” Jay said from his chair. “I jus wond a shod of som’in, a beer ma’be.”

“Go get in the car. It’s at the curb. Doors are open. Go out get in it, now.”

Jay pouched his mouth and wrinkled his forehead as if he might be thinking about an argument, but he got up and made drunk steps toward the door. “Just wanded one mo beer. Had that Pedder pibber bout down.”

“Sure, you did,” Leonard said.

Jay went out of the bar. Leonard turned and looked at Trevor. Looked at him real hard. Trevor’s face changed. “Now you take it easy, Leonard,” Trevor said.

“Sure.”

Leonard started to leave. Trevor came off the barstool with his right arm pulled back but Leonard was watching him out of the corner of his eye, looking at him in the mirror. Leonard turned quickly and smoothly and hit Trevor with a left hook under the right ear before Trevor could let go of his punch. The blow sounded like a truck had smashed into a brick wall. It caused Trevor to sit back down on his stool, bend over and breathe hard.

The woman said, “Shit on a duck. That’s some ammunition, right there.”

She wasn’t looking in her beer anymore. She was looking at Leonard and Trevor.

“Thought you might try something like that,” Leonard said to Trevor, as if he might actually be listening.

Trevor didn’t say anything. He was still bent over, trying to decide if he was home or at the movies and wondering where in the pasture he had parked his purple cow.

Everyone was looking at them. No one had their hands in their pockets. No guns. Nothing sharp. The ball bat stayed under the counter. No friends of Trevor.

When Leonard got to the far end of the bar, he said, “Butch, Jay comes back in here, you call me.”

“Who do you think called your uncle?”

“Okay, then.” Trevor fell off the barstool and lay on the floor with his knees pulled up. One foot shook a little then went still. Pee wet the front of Trevor’s pants and the cigarette smoke and liquor stink was cut with the smell of ammonia.

“He’s fucked as a dead donkey,” the double-dip woman said. She was leaning out from her stool and looking at Trevor on the floor. She had her beer in her hand and sipped. “Dead donkey would look better.”

Leonard left out of there and found Jay asleep in the backseat of the car sucking his thumb.

“Leonard Walks into a Bar" was originally published in the Lansdale short-story chapbook In the Ditch (Subterranean Press). "Leonard Walks into a Bar" © 2021 By Bizarre Hands, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Be here next Thursday, whether voluntarily or in protest, for more Mojo from Champion Joe!