Note: Since this is a 6,000 word piece, feel free to download and read later, preferably with a single malt scotch in hand.

Shad Fishing

by Ray Abernathy

“You interested in going shad fishing next week?” Jimmy Joe nonchalantly asked of his son-in-law Tommy while they were both up under Jimmy Joe’s rattle-trap Ford pickup trying to put in a new drive shaft.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Tommy replied, trying to play down his obvious pleasure at finally being asked to make the trip. “Trouble is, I don’t have a boat.”

“Don’t need a boat — Alice and Agnes down at the camp got everything a man needs, for fishing and just about anything else. They’ll rent you a boat for $3.00 a day and not even charge you for the week if the Shad run quick. They got waders, skeeter oil, vienna sausage, deviled ham, crackers, even fresh cow’s milk for those that needs it after a long night of waiting for the fish. ‘Course you don’t have to worry about food — we take four or five locker boxes of beef and pork roasts, bacon and sausage and Big ‘un comes along to make sure it all gets cooked right. We split everything four or five ways, including a tip for Big’un because he’s the best cook in middle Georgia. But don’t worry, I’ll spot you on your first trip — I am your father-in-law, and besides, I’ve noticed you eat like a bird and drink whiskey like a girl.” (More)

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In recognition of President Obama’s historic trip to, and speech in Cairo, I offer this little short story, which was just named one of 10 runnersup in the annual Potomac Review fiction competition. Good deeds can change history, don’t you think?

Behold, the Raisin!
by Ray Abernathy

Cairo. Everything is moving. Small, square Russian cars, junkers all, speeding down the broad boulevard next to the Nile, slowing neither for traffic circles nor for pedestrians dodging in and out of lanes. Young men riding cranky bicycles past crumbling French, Soviet and Italianate buildings, right hands gripping handlebars, left hands balancing wide wooden trays of precious flatbread. A bus careens wildly around a tiny girl riding side-saddle astride a donkey, the donkey piled 20 feet high with used tires, the girl furiously beating the slow-moving animal with a stick. Two black armored personnel carriers with no windows, only slits for rifles, lumber off the boulevard into the Garden City district, crawl up narrow streets and come to a stop at the back entrance to the Embassy of Saudi Arabia just as two identical vehicles leave. A boy of twelve skips down the walk of an apartment building, crosses the street, pulls himself up by the gun slits on one of the carriers, sticks his tongue out at the soldiers inside and greets them with the refrain from his favorite cartoon show: “Yabba-dabba-do.” The soldiers, most of them little older than children themselves laugh and reply, “da-da-da-da …. da-da-da-da ….dadadadadadadooo.” (More)

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Behold, the Raisin

by Ray Abernathy

Cairo. Everything is moving. Small, square Russian cars, junkers all, speeding down the broad boulevard next to the Nile, slowing neither for traffic circles nor for pedestrians dodging in and out of lanes. Young men riding cranky bicycles past crumbling French, Soviet and Italianate buildings, right hands gripping handlebars, left hands balancing wide wooden trays of precious flatbread. A bus careens wildly around a tiny girl riding side-saddle astride a donkey, the donkey piled 20 feet high with used tires, the girl furiously beating the slow-moving animal with a stick. Two black armored personnel carriers with no windows, only slits for rifles, lumber off the boulevard into the Garden City district, crawl up narrow streets and come to a stop at the back entrance to the Embassy of Saudi Arabia just as two identical vehicles leave. A boy of twelve skips down the walk of an apartment building, crosses the street, pulls himself up by the gun slits on one of the carriers, sticks his tongue out at the soldiers inside and greets them with the refrain from his favorite cartoon show: “Yabba-dabba-do.” The soldiers, most of them little older than children themselves laugh and reply, “da-da-da-da …. da-da-da-da ….dadadadadadadooo.” (More)

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