Sunday Visit

By Janice Daugharty

General Norton receives a visit from a thief, and he is in for the time of his life. An invalid with nothing to do, General has advertised a goat on a radio exchange program, which "the Hippie" picks up on. The odd pair go out to see the goat and get into a fight about religion, among other things. Despite their differences, the General decides that bad company is better than no company.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janice Daugharty
• Release date: Aug 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452319766

Janice Daugharty

Janice Daugharty is Artist-in-Residence at Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, in Tifton, Georgia. She is the author of one story collection and five novels: Dark of the Moon, Necessary Lies, Pawpaw Patch, Earl in the Yellow Shirt, and Whistle.

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Sunday Visit

by Janice Daugharty

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Janice Daugharty

Even working in microcosm, Janice Daugharty is a writer who thinks big. New York Times Book Review

Janice Daugharty is a natural born writer. Joyce Carol Oates

Rooted in his stout reclining chair, General can see through the front window that the old blue car has what looks like about a dozen bullet holes in the door, and the man getting out is the type to take pride in getting shot at.

He has rust-black hair, down to his shoulders. Is dressed in gray mechanic's coveralls. He is so raw-boned and hollow that the elastic in the waist doesn't even stretch. Hard black eyes and sucked-in cheeks and don't-give-a-damn beard tell the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey says on the radio every day.

White feet, slim as swords, in the seat of the wheelchair before him, General Norton sits higher, straighter, waiting for the knock on the door. Come in, he calls out and wags his feet on the blue vinyl seat. He has the TV tuned in to an ancient western shoot-em-up, in black and white.

Guns a-popping and Indians tilting like trees from the mountain cliffs. The cowboys in white hats keep firing, and if it was the other way round, General wouldn’t be wasting his time watching it.

The man opens the door a peep and sticks his head inside, puckering his fruit-red lips. You General Norton?

The one with the goat for sale, that's me, says General.

The man steps inside. Closes the door easy. Like somebody slipping into church late.

Have a seat, General says and hoists himself higher by pressing down with his scratchedelbows on the chair arms. "Let