Diamond Lake

by Dave Mead

Overview

Joe Greene had been Joe Greene for so long that he really thought that he was Joe Greene- - Most of the time anyway.

He'd lain beside a buddy in a Nam rice paddy one night, made long by the sounds that weren't made by his team or by the gut-shot water buffalo walking in ever smaller circles somewhere off to his left.

"There ain't never going to be another Joe Greene." His buddy said.

"How come?" The one called Padre asked.

"I'm the last one of my family."

"So go home and screw something."

"I ain't goin' home; I'm dyin'. Goin' numb. Can't feel my feet any more."

Padre hadn't told him that was because he didn't have any feet, or legs either.

"Padre. Do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Take my name, an live long enough to make a couple kids for me." He'd quit talking long enough that Padre had thought that he was gone.

Then he went on a bit, "Name them both Joe Greene."

"Both kids?"

"Yeah. If you lose the 'e' on Joe, the name fits a split tail; a swingin' dick, leave the 'e' on."

"Okay. He'd said, because you say 'okay' to a dyin' buddies last request. Especially if you're laying in a rice paddy and don't want the bad omen of not agreeing.

So Joe Greene lived on. Besides a name that wasn't his was motto that wasn't his either. It was written on a faded card, encased in plastic, that he carried in his wallet.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940011455360
Publisher:	Dave Mead
Publication date:	08/04/2011
Sold by:	Smashwords
Format:	eBook
File size:	249 KB

About the Author

I am glad you stopped by.

My name is Dave and I'm a story teller.

As well as fiction novels, short stories and epic poems, I write a blog.
I have been doing a kind of blog for several years to keep my friends over in the Valley up to speed on what's happening in Eastern Oregon, about as far from any place you can get and still have electricity.

I am what you would call a red neck. Most of the red neck jokes aren't funny………..to me.
Like the one about how if you have more than three rigs up on blocks in your front yard? Yeah. That's not fair. I'm working on one of them, one of them is a friends, he's in the joint for something he didn't do, and the third one is for parts.

I live with my wife and assorted dogs in a small town with no police force.

A county mounite drives though once in awhile, on his way to someplace else.

So protection of one's own property and possessions, is up to the individual.

I'm up for that. Ex City of Portland cop. All the other happy horseshit that goes with being who I am.

I have security lights that are motion activated and can usually, when they come on and the single ping alarm sounds, be up, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, feet slid into Burkies and grabbing a hooded camo jacket off of a hook by the door; so that I'm not a big white target, be out in the alley in 45 seconds to a minute. Oh, and armed with a Mossberg factory issue sawed off 12 gauge with a pistol grip, full of 00 buck and equipped with a weapons light.

Not long ago, the alarm pings and I slid my feet onto the floor and picking up my pajama bottoms, slide my feet into them and pull them up. Knee high. I try again this time standing up, nearly fell over, and at some point into the past 30 seconds mark realize that I am standing naked, in a flannel pillow case.

It did nothing for my tough guy image.

It's a full two minutes until I get outside.

There are two deer there, both does, looking disgusted that I took so long.

I tossed a couple apples down the alley, past where the sensor will light them up, thought about it and threw four more. Yeah, it was a blatant bribe. But over here your reputation is on the line when you screw up like that.

What I write about is people. Some of them I know and some of them introduce themselves to me as the story progresses. Writing to me is like watching a movie. Going in I kinda...