©2019-2022 michael raven

“Enough of yer damned pussivantin’ n’ fiddlin’! Get off me property!”

It was clear Old Ed meant business, the way he was waving that shotgun around, but Detective Guile wasn’t about to be scared off by a length of rust-pocked steel.

“Now, see here, Mr. Kyle — we’ve got to make sure that the torso these body parts belong to didn’t happen to come from your side of the wall.”

He was talking about the low stone wall pockmarked with blue flakes of moss and clusters of buffalo grass circling Old Ed’s place, a wall Old Ed had put up when he was still young. He’d built that wall with the rocks that littered the land and Old Ed was known to say with some laughter at the Watering Hole (when he was still prone to being capable of laughter) that rocks were about the only thing his family could honestly be accused of growing on their land. No one doubted it.

“You ain’t gonna touch me land without a writ or a peekaboo hole in your chest. Take your pick,” Old Ed warned.

This piece is was originally posted on a social media site back in 2019 using the OED’s word of the day, pussivanting. Only very light editing has been done for reposting here (title, pub name, paragraph breaks).

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