"Why so hospitable, Marvin?" It isn't really a question for Marvin, but rather a statement to the rest of us. Tom has never trusted Marvin. None of us have ever trusted Marvin.
Marvin shrugs and disappears into his crumbling, old farmhouse. Tom turns back towards the mountains and we sit quietly for an hour or so. The moon rises and I can see she is laughing at us. Marvin finally rejoins us on the porch. In one hand he carries a plump lemon, and in the other he carries a glass half-full of water.
"I'm going to be friendly and share with you folks" Marvin says. He hums softly to himself as he sets his water on the picnic table. Then, he hands me the lemon. "You first" he says with a grin full of daggers. All eyes have forgotten the swollen moon and are now concentrating on me. Marvin takes a sip of water and turns his face towards the ever chuckling moon.
To be continued...
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Plop
I am putting some poems and short stories I have written in here.
Stare like a junky, into the TV
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