"Hot Air" (short story)
We love the voice that carries this story. We can’t wait to publish this stunning work. -- editors of Hoxie Gorge Review
An excerpt
“And now Randy is getting even more of these big-ass Clydesdale horses. Thinks he’s hot shit because he’s head of some horse association. And everything about these monsters is big. Trailers taking up the whole driveway, blocking my access. Wagons he hitches them up to for parades and such. Or maybe he’s hauling Budweiser, for all I know.” You might remember that ad was all over the TV back then, so the old men chuckled.
While everybody else was paying attention to Bryant, I got a box of mason jars and lids and took them to the counter for George Wallace to ring up. “I’m kind of in a hurry,” I told him. “I’ve seen this show before, and I don’t care for it.”
“Aw, he’s just a lot of hot air,” George Wallace said, still looking Bryant’s way.