☰ The Stick Lady

I got an email today from a guy who read my original posts about my experiences in "Have Tools, Will Travel...". It was the first of many emails I've received as of late. This is easily the least disturbing one.


Hey Connor,

I'm 21, I live in Ross Creek Illinois, and I am a part-time handyman. I work for my dad.

My story is kind of stupid. It doesn’t really make sense, but I thought I’d share.

I went with my dad one Saturday to help this old lady that lives a few blocks over. He was just being nice. I don’t even remember what she wanted us to do. Alls I know is when we got there, her trees were full of red string dangling twigs that had fallen onto the ground. To be clear, she took every stick that fell into her yard and strung them back up into the tree with red twine.

When I saw that, I was like, “hell no”, but my dad said he’d promised her granddaughter or something, so we stayed. The whole time we were inside the house, that old lady just kept looking out into the yard at the tree. Just wringing her hands like she couldn’t wait to get back out there and finish what she’d started.

I’m the type of guy to live and let live. But I wanna know how someone that old and feeble could get high enough up in that tree to explain all the twigs that were hanging from the very top.


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My novel, Trigram, is in the works, but in the meantime, I'll probably be working on short stories such as the ones on Wicked Shorts. (Wink)

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