Posted on

From my newest short fiction

abstract-art-face

 

New story still in the works.  I originally wanted it to be around 1500 words but think it will end up about 2200 after all.  This is a piece from the end.

 

Red was gone when Chris arrived.  He showed his city credentials and talked with Police officers.  There was little to be done.  He ventured into the apartment and looked around.  It was essentially the same. 

“Friend of yours?”  He heard a man’s voice behind him.

“Yeah.  And I am a city inspector.  Landlord?”  Chris turned around.

“Uh huh.  Gary Pace, Pace Enterprises.”  The man was a slumlord and looked the part and now he was wary of Chris.

“This place is a real shit hole, you know?”  Chris said.

“Yeah.  I’m having it taken down.  I wasn’t hardly charging the guy anything, he watched the place for me.  He begged me to stay while I was figuring out what to do with the building.  He could have got all of this junk out of here.”

“So could you.  Could have fixed the gas before it killed someone.”  Chris turned back to the room.

“You don’t need to break my balls, pal.  Don’t no one know what happened here.  I’m letting my lawyer handle it.”  The man said. 

“You should.”  Chris gestured to the bookshelves.  “What about his stuff?  You have a family contact for him?”

“Nah man.  He didn’t sign anything.  I got his name and cash for the rent.  He drops it at my office every month.  I pay utilities.”

“Taking it down?  When?”  Chris asked.

“Soon, brother, soon.”  The man said.

Chris turned back to the room, put his hands on hips, and sighed.  “I’ll come back with my truck and load what I can.  The junk stays.  You want any of this?”

“Maybe a painting.  I like his paintings.  He gave me one once.”  The landlord said.  “Look, I’m sorry about your friend.  I liked the guy.  I was doing him a favor letting him stay here for almost nothing, he was living in his truck.”

Chris thought a moment, then spotted La Bohème on the shelves and picked it up.  “Bohemian.”  He chuckled to himself.

“What’s that?”  The landlord asked.

“Bohemian.  It’s what he called himself when I saw him last.” Chris started making his way through the refuse of the narrow passageway and back to his car.

“Sure.”  The man answered behind him.

Chris tossed La Bohème on the next seat, then drove home to get his pickup truck.

Posted on

More for Bob, P. I.

images (1)

“You are the decade expert.”  Nick said.

“Not just the 70’s”  Bob insisted “There was some good stuff in the 80’s, even the 90’s, but not as much.”

“I see, Professor Cultural Historian.  And pray tell, what are some of those?”  Nick asked.

“I’ll tell you one that always caught my eye.”  Bob said.  “That show in the 80’s with McLean Stevenson, Condo.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I’m not surprised about that.  It was one of the casualties of greedy corporate executives.  It got cancelled after one season.”  Bob said.

“And it’s an iconic classic, is it?”

“I can tell you this, it had an iconic classic actor in McLean Stevenson.  You watch that show, his talent shines.  They simply didn’t know what to do with all that comedic genius.” Bob said.

“He was in MASH for a while right?”  Nick asked.

“Yeah, hate that show.”  Bob said.

“Really?”  Nick said “That’s a surprise.  It panders to the far left.  Think you would love it.”

“Bad TV.”  Bob insisted “If it wasn’t for McLean Stevenson and maybe Larry Linville, it would have flopped long before it did.  They carried that show from a pure comedy standpoint.”

“Not Alan Alda, the star?” Nick shook his head in disbelief.

“Heck no, over-rated hack.”  Bob said.

“How about the one that wore dresses?”  Nick asked.

“Jamie Farr?  Forgot about him.  I’m on the floor every time he comes on camera.”  Bob smiled.

“You know, if Jamie Farr, McLean Stevenson and Polly Holliday had ever appeared on screen together, they would have just stopped making movies.  The camera couldn’t hold all of that astounding talent.”  Nick said.

“Go on, laugh it up.”  Bob said “It’s you who doesn’t understand the sophisticated mind of the master actor and comedian.”

“Bob, you are one jive turkey.”  Nick said.

_________________________________

Posted on

More from Bob, P. I.

tumblr_ntgu6cWL891sfie3io1_1280

About the picture:  It has nothing to do with the story.

An excerpt from Bob, P. I.   It is still under submission at three publishers.

Nick talked to Jan a while longer with Rick taking notes.  Bob busied himself flipping through paperwork, drinking coffee, and looking at things on a computer.  He seemed disinterested in their new client.

Nick showed Jan to the door with a promise to start on the case in the next few days.  He marched back into the workroom steaming.  “What the hell was that all about?”  He asked Bob.

Bob waved him off.  “What you talkin bout Nick?”

“We don’t squeeze people for money.”

“But we aren’t a charity either.  We get paid.  We are a for profit business.”

“I thought you liberals were all bleeding hearts.  Not concerned about money.”  Nick added.

“Liberal got nothing to do with it.”  Bob said.  “Business is business, partner.  She pays or we don’t play.  I ain’t just a woofin here.”

Rick cleared his throat and broke in.  “I’ll do it.  If you guys don’t want to.  I’ll do it no charge.”

Nick jerked a thumb in Ricks direction.  “See that?  That’s called heart.  We are taking this case and we will work out the money later.  I’ll pay.”  Nick turned his back on Bob.  “Woofin.  I’ll show you woofin.”

Bob shrugged.  “Groovy.  We can fit in another snoop case.”

Nick looked at his partner for a moment.  “I need some fresh air.”  He said and went for the door.

“Keep on truckin'”  Bob said to his retreating back.

“Shut up.” Nick called from the door.

Posted on

Shadowed Solitude republished by Literally Stories today

farmers-market-fruit-stand

https://literallystories2014.com/2016/04/22/shadowed-solitude-by-donald-baker/

Literally Stories republished the story Shadowed Solitude which originally came out in 2013 with The Huffington Post.  This isn’t what I consider one of my strongest pieces and one day, when I get ready to compile a short story collection, I will rewrite it.

Literally Stories is a great group of people to deal with.  This is the second of my pieces they picked up.  They are very encouraging and complementary, I can’t thank them enough.

Posted on

Literally Stories to republish Shadowed Solitude

man-marble-bust-and-mask

Today I received the email we all want:

Dear Donald,
 
I am very pleased to inform you that your short story, Shadowed Solitude, will be published on Literally Stories at 06.00am GMT on Friday 22.04.16.

Kind regards
Hugh Cron on behalf of Literally Stories

Shadowed Solitude was originally published in the fall of 2013 by The Huffington Post / Fiction 50 section.  I have no idea what happened, my guess an error, but for some reason when they posted it they put it in with stories that had been posted months before.  So it was buried.  On top of that they closed the comments on old stories, so I have no idea what readers thought or if they even noticed it.

I submitted to Literally Stories as they are one of the few who will publish reprints.

That makes five of my short stories that have been picked up since 01/2016, when I got laid off from work and put more effort into it.  On top of that, I finished my novel and got it sent off to a few publishers.

Now, my next goal is to make money.  All I want is one dollar, so I can say I am a paid writer.