Return VC stakes his claim. Expounds upon the vicissitude of TIME

Last quarter I almost made it. My story, “Time Out of Tune,” a western set in 1886 in These Parts and Those Parts, went all the way to the top floor, the executive suite, but, sigh, didn’t make the cut, and the anvil of rejection was dropped and splattered my good fortune.

But, instead of my good fortune sinking into the sand, as all good fortune must do when anvilized, and despite my inherent and integral depressive spleen where I like to think I’m merely a malignant tumor in the prostate of the world, the good wishes and reviews from Gabrielle and Lafloor and Lalo did make me want to blot my splattered fortune. Fortunately there was a blotter nearby, and I am willing to plunge ahead, sand be damned.

So, I present to you another story, this one also set in 1886 but in the very real place of Chicago. It’s called “Ed, Norton, Ralph, Kramden.”

To reiterate my reiteration, I'll write what I wrote before but with a different accent: Been through the sixties (a college paper on Moby Dick was one sentence), copyeditor, managing editor, and now freelance copyeditor and writer. I blinked, sneezed, yawned, and now I’m 60, and all flamboyantly interrupted by searching for my keys and wallet and eyeglasses.

Thanks for reading.

Mike