American River Review 2022 - copy - Flipbook - Page 32
“Well, give me that whiskey and skidoo, you little wisenheimer,” Jonah
shoved me away with his words.
I never liked Jonah. He had a way to make a person feel bad about
themselves. And the nub made you feel sorry for him. I mean, it isn’t every da
you see such a young man with a missing limb, foundering in his woe with spirits before noon. He popped the cork and took a shot. I had never tasted whiskey
before, but from the look on Jonah’s face, it didn’t appear pleasant. I left him
there behind the church and walked back to Main Street. I pulled the rock candy and the bottle of soda from my back pockets. I walked over to an open door
on the side of the church and used the strike plate on the knob to pop the cap.
I took a bite and lodged the candy in my cheek like chewing tobacco, sucking
slowly as the sugary substance dissolved slowly throughout my mouth. I picked
up my pop and took another swig.
I daydreamed of driving that automobile so far from this place.