The Flying Stick
It was my 16th year of life. My brother Kenny was in college up at Tarleton, his second semester and had moved into an apartment, that had formerly been occupied by a cop he was told. The cop had left a night stick behind. Kenny was sure that I would need that club one day, so he brought it home to me. He always looked out for me like that. The wooden stick had been drilled through the core had a steel rod inserted. I kept it stuck between the seat and the console. My means of transportation was a … Continue reading The Flying Stick