More Wild Road Tales

“There’s a table open,” she smiled at him over her shoulder, “I’ll gorack ’em if you want to get the beer.” He nodded agreement and pushed his way to the bar. He watched herwork her way through the crowd, up the two steps to the raised pool area and puther quarters in the table. He […]

For all my sisters who have known the terror and indignity of anassault, and there are far too many of us. The young woman walked slowly to the bar, took a napkin from theholder and held it to her abused lip. Pulling it away, she stared at the dirt and blood. Tears stung her eyes,

What the hell was he thinking? Obviously he wasn’t. Becausehere he was, idling down a long, narrow, graveled road at ten o’clock atnight in the middle of nowhere. Shit, they didn’t even have streetlightsout here. He should have just stopped at the motel out on the highway,called her, thanked her for her kind offer and

“Bastard,” she swore softly as she returned the phone to its cradle.”Jim, you dumb-fuck, butt-ugly, slacker bastard.” Nice time to back out on a ride, half-hour before they were to hit theroad. Fine. It was only 150 miles; she was going anyway. In reality, shepreferred to ride alone. Setting her own pace, taking the whole

“Wha?” Hacksaw said into the phone, dazed and half-awake. “Wind ’em up,” the voice on the other end barked so loud Hacksaw hadtohold the phone at arms length. “We’re splitting from the cantina atnoon. You’ve got three hours to be on time. This is your lastchance Hacksaw. Don’t fuck up or you’re out of the

Chet May stood at the door of the gas station casually sucking on aroot beer Slurpee as he watched the scene in the gas pump bay. There was nothingremarkable about it. All the players moved about in a practiced manner.Two black and white Riverside patrol cars were parked akimbo, doors flungopen, lights fluttering and reflecting

Tony the Tool sat in the gutter in front of his California bungalow. A couple weeks before, a community improvement group had painted the run-down rental, but it didn’t improve the condition of the junk rolling stock surrounding it. It was past 10 p.m. in the rundown neighborhood, but no one was going to call

(If you’re reading this, you’re either hallucinating on Tabasco tinted, mescaline tainted magic-mushrooms or, that mother fucker, Bandit, has shown that he has the literary balls to put this steamy saga on his web site. The slimy synopsis is as follows: Zeke the Splooty, our horny hero gets into mad mayhem and romping sex. He

I’ve been branded an outlaw.The posse has been chasing me for eight days now, and my rations are about gone – only a few bits of jerky and some stale biscuits remain!       This is all the result of mistaken identity on the part of the citizens of Los Cupelos de Sano, which is a town

      “Do you haf to ride to zees job?” The German Feminine asked.I noticed something in her eyes which was altogether rare in the world of Germans- emotion.      “Why?” I asked.      “I sink you should haf a stronger helmet. Perhaps a Deutsche(German) helmet.”      “Shiiiit,” I laughed as I headed to the garage to get El Diablo, the big twin