A Scurvy Sampler: Taste the Works of Joseph Ferguson

By Joseph Ferguson

A sampling of the short fiction, humor, and poetry of Joseph Ferguson.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Ferguson
• Release date: Sep 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370390779

Joseph Ferguson

Joseph Ferguson is an author, poet, and journalist appearing in a variety of small press, regional, and national publications. He wrote propaganda for a living for a variety of entities for some 25 years. His books include two short story collections - Southbound, and Shillelagh Law, a poetry collection – Reflections of a Scurvy Bastard; and a spoof of "how-to-get-a-job" books, Dave Doolittle's Resumes That Work, So You Don't Have To. He is a former editor and critic for Hudson Valley, ran the Fiction Workshop for the Poughkeepsie Library District, and has reviewed books and videos for Climbing, The American Book Review, Kirkus, and a number of other publications. He also sells rock climbing t-shirts through his website: http://www.bumluckhome.com/

Book preview

A Scurvy Sampler

Taste the Works of Joseph Ferguson

Also by Joseph Ferguson

Southbound

Shillelagh Law

Dave Doolittle’s Resumes That Work So You Don’t Have To

Reflections of a Scurvy Bastard

Links to these books can be found at the Author’s Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/SouthboundStories3/

A Scurvy Sampler

Joseph Ferguson

Copyright © 2017 Joseph Ferguson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying form without written permission of the author.

These poems, stories, and essays are fictional. All characters, names, incidents, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

ISBN-13: 978-1976490385 

ISBN-10: 1976490383 

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the editors of all the publications and web sites who saw fit to publish many of these stories, poems, and humor.

Contents

Invitation to the Blues

The Incredible Sleeping Man

From - Dave Doolittle’s: Resumes That Work (So You Won’t Have To)

The Altar

Duecy and Detour

New Orleans

Also by Joseph Ferguson

About the Author

Short Stories

Invitation ToThe Blues

From: Southbound

Originally appeared in Writing Tomorrow Magazine October, 2014

"She's a moving violation

From her conk down to her shoes,

But it's just an invitation to the blues"

Tom Waits

The sky was that super-3-D dark-bright ... looks like the whole fuckin scheme of things is gonna change...or like you're standin on another planet...And the clouds are churnin and curdled like lemon-flavored milk, their guts all twisted and seethin with Frankenstein lightning ... And you really feel like somethin's gonna happen ... dogs'll start talkin, the dead start walkin, and Christ, the least'll happen is some house'll come whippin the fuck outa Kansas and zap some old witch in striped socks.

But just when you figure the laws of physics are gonna be repealed, all it does is start fuckin rainin ... and you're left standin like a douchebag with nature washin the big ideas clean out your brain.

I just made it to this shit-ass little grease-hole before the drops got so big they was bringin down birds. A bunch of stew bums, so gone all they need is coffee to get stoned, is sittin around sharin a dish of that Greek shit ya slice off a pole ... looks like dog crap ... and some old broad shaped like a question mark with whiskers is walkin in circles tryin to talk the tiles into stayin on the floor. So I says to myself, Ace, this is THE PLACE!

Cause I had the Ts so bad it'd make Idi Amin's mind look like a school picnic. And I'm wet and drippin and ain't washed in a day or two and feelin all age and warts and stray hairs like the old bag. So I figure its time for some Cs and order me up some OJ sayin, Easy on the icecapades, sister, when I look up and see this tight, white uniform all spillin lips and lashes, and boobs and bottoms, with rusted brillo curls all oozing out her head like soapsuds.

And I tell ya, this sighta sunshine like to blind me with all the foul weather that's been goin down inside and out, and I kinda lost that Ace cool tryin to say shit when I ain't got shit to say or the brain to say it with, and I musta come off like Wally Cox-sucker or somethin.

But fuck it. I had a ticket on the next Hound out (only in this booney burg they ain't got Hounds they got Transporama or some shit, hooks up with Hounds down in Beer Town).

So I'm watchin her siphonin out the juice, wearin