Alright guys. Ready to LYAO? Here’s a sneak peak just for you BP readers: Reef Perkins’ hilarious collection of short stories… “Screwed, Blu’d and Tattooed.” Join us!!
“Two roads forked in a wood.
I don’t care what roads do in private.
I turned and headed back. It was cold.
And that has made no difference at all.”
(Blu Yunger, 8th grade)
Some souls are destined to wander without a clue. I am one, one of many. My name is Blu Yunger. I lost my left ear in an apple-bobbing contest. I am the raffle prize no one wants, the short straw, the single sock, the inappropriate noise. Skinny as a stick, with my own red hair, some teeth and several unproven ideas, I am all that I can be and will be myself since as they say, all the others are taken.
To be made aware of one’s mistakes is difficult at best but having an untrained fool write about them is an undertaking I would prefer not to endure, but must. But must, but must, but must … I don’t know why I do that but, be assured I will protect my dignity, which may be called into question, with great vigor and … but must, but must … but look, I didn’t know I was going to be in this book, neither did you, so let’s cut the crap. It’s me, Blu, and I want you with me on this one.
*** THE EARLY BIRD CASINO *** MIAMI, FLORIDA
Blu Yunger rocketed through the parking lot in a 1965 Ford Fairlane. The fast moving car swept the crushed coral road. An unwary ibis was sucked up by the vehicle’s slipstream and driven ass-first into a stout Frangipani tree with a squawk. The singular note united with fine coral particles and fluttering bingo debris to cloak the ungainly fowl. The license plate read: JUS-1-MO.
Nearby, under a streetlight, an elderly woman paused on a carpet of crushed crustaceans that constituted the parking lot of the Early Bird Casino. She mumbled gently in the soft ocean air and rummaged for her keys. A familiar looking Ford whizzed by. “Oh, for Land’s Sake, that looks like my car!”
She too was dusted with sparkling particles and, for an instant, resembled a large Tinker Bell in the bright incandescent light. The old lady sneezed and looked for a tissue. She peered into her purse, dug deeper and inadvertently discharged her mace.
Forgive and forget, there’s a reason why they put them words in that order, Blu thought … if you forgive, it’s easier to forget, otherwise you might forget to forgive. He remembered hearing those words, or some like them, in a church once and truly hoped to be forgiven for stealing the car. Forgiven but not forgotten. Sure, he felt sorry for the old lady, but Blu was not one to live a life of regret. Early on he promised himself that his time on earth would not be a dry-hump. His hungry mind turned, like a windsock in the rain.
Blu stepped on the gas and limbo’d the commandeered car under the rising gate arm. He swallowed with excitement, adjusted the rear view mirror and floored the Ford. Somehow he missed a squad of Snorkel-Beaked Grebes feeding on flattened bugs near the exit. Blu carpe’d the moment, hung a left and caught a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple in the rear view mirror. “Bingo, Bango!” His words were stolen by the wind and the scent of southern oceans embraced his dilated nostrils. Startled nose hairs whistled a salty tune and Blu let his imagination go, knowing full well it might not return. He talked to himself even when he wasn’t listening.
Blu turned left, but knew from experience that he was headed right. Maybe my new life just started, Blu thought and goosed the Ford. “OK, here goes,” Blu said it softly, testing the humor of tropic air, “Mat me and frame me, it’s time for the wall, the blind man winked at the man with three balls.” He liked to make up sayings but, usually said them quietly to himself, not sure of how good they were and yet, he knew his time would come. He was waiting for something. He kept waiting.
The night air was warm, the Ford was fast and ill-fated bugs peppered the windshield like funky buckshot. Miami felt good. So did Blu.
The stolen Ford ran real smooth and anyway, it was all downhill from Miami to Key West.
Ready for more?
Click here to get your own copy of Screwed, Blu’d and Tattooed [and other stories] by Reef Perkins…
About the Author
Captain Mark T. “Reef” Perkins is a marine surveyor with a colorful past. From commanding a 150-foot 300 DWT US Army diving ship off Vietnam to smuggling in the Caribbean, Reef Perkins has become a living legend. A graduate of both the US Army Engineer Officer Candidate School and the US Navy Salvage Officers School, he’s a man comfortable in or out of the water. Raised in rural Michigan, Reef now lives in Key West where he can get his feet wet. He is the author of the bestselling memoir, Sex, Salvage & Secrets.
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Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA
Screwed, Blu’d and Tattooed copyright © 2013 by Reef Perkins. Electronic compilation/ print edition copyright © 2013 by Whiz Bang LLC.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. While the author has made every effort to provide accurate information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.
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