Pokrewne

Start
CONAN 01 Conan Robert E. Howard
CONAN 30 Conan niszczyciel Robert E. Howard
CONAN 27 Conan z Czerwonego B Robert E. Howard
CONAN 52 Conan nieposkromiony Robert E. Howard
CONAN 23 Conan obronca Robert E. Howard
CONAN 20 Conan z Aquilonii Robert E. Howard
CONAN 33 Conan wielki Robert E. Howard
CONAN 67 Conan i noce Szadiza Robert E. Howard
CONAN 66 Conan i wladczyni ni Robert E. Howard
[erotik] Paige, Laurelin Tiefe Sehnsucht

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.WESTERN TAXIDERMYSTORIES BY BARB HOWARDCopyright © Barb Howard 2012All rights reserved.The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.In the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying of the material, a licence must be obtained from Access Copyright before proceeding.— — —Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in PublicationHoward, Barb, 1962–Western Taxidermy / Barb HowardShort StoriesAlso issued in electronic format.ISBN 978-1-927063-11-8I.Title.PS8586.0828W48 2012 C813’.6 C2011-906748-X— — —Editor for the Board: Anne NothofCover and Interior Design: Greg VickersAuthor Photo: Boden/Ledingham PhotographyNeWest Press acknowledges the financial support of the Alberta Multimedia Development Fund and the Edmonton Arts Council for our publishing program.We further acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund (CBF) for our publishing activities.We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts which last year invested $24.3 million in writing and publishing throughout Canada.201, 8540–109 StreetEdmonton, Alberta | T6G 1E6780.432.9427www.newestpress.comNo bison were harmed in the making of this book.We are committed to protecting the environment and to the responsible use of natural resources.This book was printed on 100% post-consumer recycled paper.1 2 3 4 5 13 12 | Printed and bound in CanadaTo my sister, Mary Howard, with love.CONTENTSWESTERN TAXIDERMYBIG FORK CAMPGROUNDMY BROTHER’S SHIT-KICKERSBASIC OBEDIENCEEULOGY FOR THE FEMINIST MOVEMENTTHANKSGIVINGPORCH JOCKEY REVIVALBREAKING THE MOULDVACUUMING THE DOGLAST SEEN AT TEENY TOWNMRS.GOODFELLOW’S DOGTHE SMILE THAT BITESMARKING TERRITORYHYDROCYSTBUCKAROO DRIVE-THRUSTILL MAKING TIMEPREVIOUS PUBLICATIONSACKNOWLEDGEMENTSWESTERN TAXIDERMYDeirdre’s mother opened the door when I arrived at the baby celebration.She reminded me of a monkey: short, with stringy limbs, close-set eyes, a wide, smiling mouth.Although, unlike a monkey, her face didn’t have much expression.Too taut.Too shiny.Details you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t a taxidermist.But even with my training, at first glance I never would have guessed she was a grandmother.Primate, yes.Grandmother, yes.She took my gift bag and set it down on the wicker bench with the other presents.“How very kind of you,” she said, still smiling even though my bag, a reused wine sac closed with a piece of masking tape, stood out, in a bad way, from all the sunny floral-design bags spilling over with pastel paper and ribbon.She spent a few moments adjusting all the bags on the bench in order, it seemed, to camouflage mine under the tassels and tissues of others.Then she escorted me across the foyer and into the living room, where there was a bar.Not some impromptu card table with a Styrofoam cooler on top.This was a permanent bar with a sink and coasters and pink cocktail napkins and several bottles of white wine lined up and ready for consumption.I wondered if Deirdre’s mother was a bit loony.That would explain her peculiar looks and that non-stop smile.Everyone’s got a loony somewhere in their family, I thought as she poured me a white wine, and hurrah for those families that let them out of the closet.She poured herself a diet pop.Bob, Deirdre’s husband, doesn’t drink alcohol either.At least, I’ve never smelled booze on him.He is a sober hunter.I can sometimes tell if a hunter was drunk in the field.Ragged cuts, wet cape, broken antlers.Admittedly, with the increasing number of hunters who don’t know a thing about field care, it’s getting harder to tell who was drunk and who is just ignorant.“Cheers,” Deirdre’s mother said, holding her glass up to me.“Cheers,” I said and downed the wine right away so I wouldn’t have to carry the glass around with me.I’m practical that way.Deirdre’s mother steered me, bordering on a push really, towards a cluster of women near the fireplace.They were talking about back fat [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]