Lord Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

By Mark Cook

The short stories included in this book are about every day people doing every day things, but it doesn't always work out.  The essays include working the night shift, kids at restaurants, sibling warfare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Cook
• Release date: Jun 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386554011

Mark Cook

Mark Cook was born in Tahlequah, Oklahoma in 1962. He spent his childhood playing and working on his grandparents dairy farm in Eldon, Oklahoma. His short stories Fritter and Lord Willing and the Creek Don't Rise were set on that farm. "My fondest memories are squirrel hunting in the woods and roaming the pastures and creeks searching for treasures." Mark is a Cherokee Citizen, and lives with his wife and their dogs east of Pryor Creek, Oklahoma. He teaches English at an at-risk high school in Broken Arrow and creative writing to adults at Northeast Tech in Claremore, OK.

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LORD WILLING AND THE CREEK DON’T RISE

Mark Cook

Claremore, OK

Copyright © 2016 Spacebar Publishing, LLC

All rights reserved.

First edition, December, 2016

No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without prior permission of the author.

These stories are works of fiction. All names, characters, institutions, places, and events portrayed in each story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

PORCH

AMERICA’S HIDDEN AFFLICTION

THE CYCLOPS SANDWICH

LORD WILLING AND THE CREEK DON’T RISE

PRINCESS

FORGET THE VIAGRA, I JUST WANT SOME SLEEP!

I’LL REMEMBER

CLARA

PORCH

THE GLUNK, GLUNK, GLUNK sound was coming from the rear of my Jeep.  I pulled over at the first level place I saw, which is like finding a sober person at a redneck wedding, on Arkansas Highway 103.  You were either going up or down.  Evidently, the same demented person who designed The Texas Giant roller coaster at Six Flags also designed Highway 103.

Stay! I told Porch as I opened the car door.  Porch stopped licking himself long enough to give me a look that said, Are you talking to me?  Today was one of those days I felt like saying, Go ahead and put the gun in your mouth.  It will only hurt for a second.

Fridays are supposed to be a good thing, especially when you are only working a few hours and then taking off for a long weekend of hiking in the Ozarks.  Today had been pure hell, though.  It started with a cold shower because the hot water heater decided to conk out on me.  After a quick shower, very quick, I drove to work and found out that our data server was down and I couldn’t access the notes I needed for this morning’s briefing.  Luckily, Mr. Coffee was working, so the morning wasn’t a total loss.

I finally got away from the office about 11:30.  I sped home, threw my daypack into the back of my Wrangler and was just going back to shut the front door when the phone rand.  Damn!  What now?  I went back into the house, kicking the front door shut behind me, and started looking for the phone.  With each ring, I got closer until I finally found it hiding between the couch cushions.

Yea? I challenged.

That’s no way to talk to your favorite sister, Casey said in her usual upbeat voice.

I don’t have a favorite sister.  A band of wild monkeys stole her when she was born.  What’s up?  I leaned on the couch arm and scratched.

I need you to pick up Porch at the vet on your way through.

I didn’t know he was sick.  What’s wrong?

Nothing.  It was just time for Porch's yearly physical, and I don’t have time to hang around.

I walked into the kitchen and inspected the cupboard.  I bet Porch is pissed.  He hates those little carriers they stick him in.

Oh well, life’s a bitch but Porch isn’t.  She laughed.

Ha Ha.  I can get Porch but I’m already running late.  Why can’t Scott pick him up?

Scott had an emergency in Clarksville last night.  He took his gear with him and said he’ll meet us there at two.  I could hear her lighting up her usual Virginia Slims in the background.

You on your cell phone?

Yeah, how’d you know?

I could hear cars honking and brakes squealing.  Driving with your knees again, huh?

I can drive better with my knees than most people can with their hands.  She replied unfazed by my sarcasm.  Casey’s little red Nissan was well known in her hometown.  When locals saw it they either edged over to the outside of the lane or simply stopped, closed their eyes and hoped God was watching over them.

"I’ll get Porch, but it’s going