Bad Ol’ Boy by Harold Miles (auth.)

April 3, 2017 | Satire | By admin | 0 Comments

By Harold Miles (auth.)

. . .the novel captures the spirit of frontier event fiction in a modern surroundings and may intrigue fanatics of the yank picaresque. -Publisher's Weekly

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Additional resources for Bad Ol’ Boy

Sample text

We'll go back out in the woods when I get up and around. I still got some things I need to get off my chest, but tonight I'm feeling better. Let's just talk about the good times we've had together. "It sure is good to have you here. " "Uncle Will, if you ain't got nothing to say, I've been thinking about last spring when me and you were down at the river, right where I'm supposed to get your money. It come that awful flood. The water was six or seven feet deep in that place. I've been won, dering if it might have washed your money away or got it sopping wet.

We started back in the direction of Tallapoosa from Bremen, driving very slowly. She snuggled up next to me, so I put my arm around her and felt I was in hog heaven. Pretty soon we came to an old logging road. I eased off the main road. The logging road ended in a wide spot. I turned the car around and pointed it back toward the main road. Julie suggested that we sit in the back seat. She said that with, out the steering wheel it would be more comfortable, which sounded fine to me. We crawled over the front seat into the back without opening the doors, and before I knew it, she had her arms around me and gave me a long juicy kiss.

He grudgingly admitted that was a reasonable thing to do as I took my pocket knife out and walked to the edge of a cane break. I picked out a cane that looked to be 12 or 14 feet long and cut it, started trimming the leaves off, then went to the car, opened the trunk, and took my shovel out deliberately. Walking close to the riverbank, I started digging fishbait in a mirey, mucky place. While Josh Webster watched me with what appeared to be diminishing interest, I immediately found a couple of big earthworms and dropped them into a #3 tin can I'd brought along just in case some passerby got curious why I was down on the river.

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