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By: T.G. Browning
Ian got out of his Volvo and marched into the house, went immediately to the desk and pulled out a Glock 9mm automatic. He grabbed the clip from behind his autographed copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas , seated it and jacked a hollow point bullet into the chamber.
Next, he grabbed a bottle of Old Grandad Bourbon, poured three fingers, drank it, and then poured three more before he rummaged around in the fridge for ice cubes, dumped a couple into the tumbler and then positioned his favorite chair back further against the wall, closer to the corner. He moved the TV tray stand into positioin, sat the drink down, sat himself down and lit up a beat up cigar. The TV tray also had his remotes so he flipped through the five CDs till he found the compillation he had put together once he�d learned about the drawbacks of owning this one particular house. Track 1 was Louisiana Blues by Savoy Brown and the old Muddy Waters cover started up just fine. It would be followed by Inside Looking Out , also by Savoy Brown, Savoy Brown�s Hellbond Train and Tell Mama , Jeff Beck�s cover of Mustang Sally, Two Trains Runnin � by Al Kooper�s Rekooperation with the Danny Kalb vocals, two Deep Purple cuts Why Didn�t Rosemary and Chasing Shadows , and finally finished with Rory Gallagher�s Irish Tour double album�s versions of Walk on Hot Coals, A Million Miles Away and the mind-boggling live version of Tattooed Lady .
After drinking all of his current drink, Ian decided he�d really screwed up because he hadn�t included Derek and the Dominos Layla and Neil Young�s Cowgirl in the Sand.
Damn, he�d never have the time to add them on. Pity.
Ian grabbed the bourbon from the kitchen and poured himself two fingers this time.
�Alright you sawed-off piece of shit. Let�s get down to it.�
He didn�t get an answer, which didn�t surprise him.
Banshees are notoriously rude creatures. Came with the territory.
[-:-]
George Taft wasn�t superstitious by any yardstick you would want to name. Things that didn�t make any sense didn�t particularly bother him, which explained why he had managed to escape the dire effects of disco and line dancing. His answer was to simply ignore such nuttiness and by-in-large, it worked.
Not with this particular old wooden cross. It was hard to ignore.
George and most of the rest of the small Jewel community ended up treating it like a morbid variant akin to the old seaman�s rhyme of Red Sky at night, Sailor�s Delight/Red Sky in morning, Sailor take warning . A portent of impending corpsitude if you will, and bring your own body bag. Which George did.
George was simply expecting a quiet wait of about an hour till the ambulance showed up and he planned on reading the newspaper and drinking a couple of cups of coffee. But it wasn�t quiet at the house. George could hear classic rock guitar riffs on the highway before turning for the house itself. It was a bluesy number of some sort. Long, beautiful guitar riffs. George hadn�t ever heard it before and when he pulled into the turn around and shut off the engine, he was fairly certain he�d never forget it.
He climbed out of the car slowly, carefully and regarded the open door for several long moments before taking quick side glances around the front of the place. George finally took a deep breath and trudged up the three steps to the porch proper. A voice took up the song, singing:
Why ask how I feel?
Well, how does it look to you?
I fell hook, line and sinker
Lost my captain and my crew.
I�m standing on the landing
And there�s no one there but me
That�s where you�ll see me
Looking out on the deep blue sea.
�A Million Miles Away�
Rory Gallagher
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