. I had been in a good mood. In late April I had seen the orthopedic surgeon who handled knee and hip replacements, and my surgery was scheduled for May 31. I had addressed my neighbors about taking care of the cats for the four days I was expected to be away, and everything was … Continue reading 137. CRYING JAGS & PAPER BAGS
Author: Larry Moore
136. THE USPS BLUES
Oh, Missy Bell! I called. Yes? Annabelle turned back to me. If I’m going to sweat over your breakfast, I replied, the least you can do is eat it. It’s good, Annabelle! Thatch said, looking up from his dish. I could hardly hear him from the grunts and snarls coming from Stella’s morning dining experience. … Continue reading 136. THE USPS BLUES
135. ALL WET
The phone rang. I stopped writing, set the pencil on the score paper for the current number in the ballet, and rose with great effort from my writing table. By the time I had limped to the phone, the machine had picked up. I grabbed the receiver and said “Hello?” All I could hear … Continue reading 135. ALL WET
134. I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW
It all started last June when I refused to let Annabelle watch the DVD of the French film The Baker’s Wife. She had asked me several times to play it, and I kept finding reasons to postpone. After several frustrating weeks, after I had turned down her request to watch Cyrano de Bergerac with Gerard … Continue reading 134. I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW
133. CHRISTMAS IS COMING
It was a cold morning, December 12, and I had to step out for a doctor’s appointment. When my car showed up to take me to East 54th Street, the driver called to tell me he was outside the building. I put on my cap and limped to the walker. Okay, babies, I told them. … Continue reading 133. CHRISTMAS IS COMING
132. FRONT WINDOW
Murders don’t happen to ordinary folk. They’re a part of la vie de low-life, or crime families like the Gottis or Trumps, but peaceful, minding-their-own-business folk are beyond such things, I believed. I do not even know exactly how this began. No, wait. I blame Annabelle, who’s been restless lately. I was sure some of … Continue reading 132. FRONT WINDOW
131. MY NAME IS MRS. NORMAN … BATES
The morning had been far too fraught for comfort. I had gone wild when the payment for Martin’s concerts came in. The cats got food and treats, I ordered supplies for the apartment and my worktable, and the shipments arrived in huge cartons I needed to unpack in the lobby to drag up to the … Continue reading 131. MY NAME IS MRS. NORMAN … BATES
130. STRICTLY POLITICAL
I was lying on my bed, listening to my iTunes play about fifteen songs of Martin’s proposed concert list. I needed to get into the groove and form some ideas for the concert overture I was going to score. It had been a busy morning for this old gimp: I had dressed, fed the cats, … Continue reading 130. STRICTLY POLITICAL
129. WHAT PRICE STARDOM?
I sat at the computer staring vacantly at the screen. My bank account was down to a few pennies, and I figured if I stared long enough a healthy balance would suddenly appear. I hadn’t worked since March 2020, when the pandemic ended the world we once knew. At that time, I had a show … Continue reading 129. WHAT PRICE STARDOM?
128. BRIDGES AND TROLLS
As Oscar Hammerstein once wrote, “May was full of promises,” and we watched it turn into June with great hopes. The first good news was that the property in Ohio that my dad left to me and my brothers when he died in 2007 was finally sold, on the contingency that the City of Middletown … Continue reading 128. BRIDGES AND TROLLS