Slugabed

By C. A. Anderson

Earl’s past has caught up with him in the shape of a gnome. While sorting through the cast offs, Earl comes face to face with his past. He tries to ignore him, but the gnome knows all his dirty little secrets and makes him face them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. A. Anderson
• Release date: Jun 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9780692231753

C. A. Anderson

I was born in Inglewood California in 1962. I spent most of my life in Ventura County. I have two children and four grandchildren. Three boys and one girl for those keeping count. Besides writing I enjoy art, music, travel, and working on my house. When I am not digging up my yard I either paint, draw, create with clay. Crochet, crewel, and photography.

Book preview

Slugabed

C. A. Anderson

Copyright © 2014 C.A. Anderson

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0692231757

ISBN 13: 978-0692231753

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940929

Camarillo, California

Published by Pickwick Press

1

Look at all this junk we have here today.

Earl Johnson’s voice travels through the empty Goodwill store. It’s early, and the back of the storeroom is cold. An old space heater glows from under the workbench. Outside, a trash truck passes through the alley, the metal bay door rattles.

Earl stands on a worn rug remnant in front of his workbench. The sorting area is separated by a wall of old, mismatched shelving. The other side houses the donated items for sale, on various shelves and garment racks. Earl moves four boxes from the pallet, by the bay door, onto the sorting table. He grunts and puffs with every box he lifts and moves to the sorting table. A scraping noise echoes through the store as his left leg drags behind him. His worn shoes offer little support to his tired feet.

Let’s see what treasures you hold, box number one. His hand shakes as he cuts the duct tape from the top flap. More raggedy clothes. Now why do you think poor people want to wear your tired, worn-out clothes? He says to the box. He gathers the pile of clothes and places it in the rolling bin behind him against the far wall.

Earl reaches around and rubs his lower back as he walks back to the sorting table. Lord, why back pain? Haven’t I paid my dues yet? He says to the ceiling. His voice echoes throughout the empty shop. He returns to his table, and cuts the tape on the bottom of the box, and flattens it. He tosses the box on the empty pallet by the door.

His right hand shakes as he cuts open the second box. He stops, places the box knife on the table, and rubs his hands together. Lord, why do you make my hands shake so? Haven’t I paid my dues? He says again to the ceiling. I’ve given up drinking, I’m not living that life anymore. I want a good clean living, no more bars, no more women, no more lying.