194 books
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Grit Lit
“
In the morning we shed our blue sheep’s clothing. Our border shirts came out of satchels and onto our backs. We preferred this means of dress for it was more flatout and honest. The shirts were large with pistol pockets, and usually colored red or dun. Many had been embroidered with ornate stitching by loving women some were blessed enough to have. Mine was plain, but well broken in. I can think of no more chilling a sight than that of myself all astride my big bay horse with six or eight pistol
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― Woe to Live On
― Woe to Live On
“
Roadkill Rocker by Stewart Stafford
I ordered madness on toast.
My reflection pooled on the floor,
splashed around in it for ages,
until room service imploded the door.
“Time to pay the piper, son,” it growled —
“It’s my record label’s tab, you’ll find out!”
They clay-pigeoned my sandwich at me,
my last morsel before getting kicked out.
Housekeeping surveyed the wreckage,
this one-man party animal slunk to his feet:
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“Yeah — I’m roadkill from down the street!
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