I made the finals in the 5 minute fiction contest lastnight. Please stop by and vote. You can read the stories too, if you
like. They are all very different. It was a good prompt.
I have to make a decision about whether or not to stick with
the new train station. I’m actually a day
overdue on that decision and will probably get in trouble with the conductor
this morning. Wish me luck.
Decision is made. I
will keep the new station. I’ve seen
several other people from the old station showing up the last couple of days
and the parking lot is fuller. I think things
might be worse up north.
Found an interesting entry in Washington’s journal last
night. Thought you’d enjoy it.
August 8, 1958. Mickyhollow, MS
Wonderful news. I’ve sold
the farm and am now officially out of the chicken business. If someone ever comes to you and says, “You can
make a million dollars with a chicken farm,” then you should look that man in
the eye and say, “Balderdash.”
There are few creatures as vile and repugnant as a chicken,
be they living or dead. I for one will
consider it to be too soon if I ever see the gizzard of a fowl again.
The young man that bought it from me – Frank Perdue’s boy,
Frank, jr. – says he’s got plans that will change how America eats
chicken. Says he can make the million
that eluded me. Maybe he can. And if so, good for him. As for me, if I need to raise chickens to
make a million I’d rather beg on skid row.
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