Tax him more.
Tax him till
He's good and sore.
The poem on taxes is winding down, only two or three more verses, then the good stuff begins: a list of what is taxed. Of course, it won't be up to date, or will soon be out of date, due to the new Fedeal budget proposed by the President on top of the two bailouts and supplementary bailouts they're dishing out practically daily. A news report said the new budget has $11,000 spending for every individual in the country! If they would just give that to me, I could travel to Hawaii at least once a year.
I finished the first draft of the fifth version of the novel presently called "Tom Anderson." The title will be changed to something else shortly, after I read it and see if it all fits upside and down, inside and out. This one is now 42,000 words, cut down from 72,000, with characters added and more action inserted.
Here is another excerpt from "Tom Anderson", from Chapter 3:
Del was talking to Mrs. White with his back to the door and didn't notice Tom come into the room, but when he turned around and took a seat, he let Tom know that he was the same old Del.
"Well, well, if it ain't my old friend, Tom Anderson! Back in town, huh? I'd say it was nice to see you again, but I wouldn't mean it!" Del practically yelled, his face contorted into an unnatural but familiar shape.
"Nice to see you again, too, Del. I hear your family sold the store and moved up north," said Tom.
"Yep, we wanted out of this God-forsaken burg, but I keep coming back to raise Hell, 'cause I think the Sharps cheated us out of that store."
"Well, I was gone, so I don't know anything about it," Tom said.
"I don't trust anybody in this town anymore, and if you give argument, I'll whip you just like I used to do," Del threatened, giving Tom that scrunched up, dirty look and clenching his fists.
Mrs.White interrupted, placing a plate covered with beef and potatoes in front of Tom.
"Del, can't you be friendly for a change?" she said, taking a seat at the table.
"The Sharps are nice people, Del," said Tom. "How come you're so upset about them?"
"It's none of your business, you little pipsqueak!," Whitney said, stuffing his mouth with beef and flashing a dirty sneer at Tom.
Tom had a lot of resentment building up since his school days, and he lost control. He brushed back his blond hair, looked Whitney square in the eye, stood up, and said, "I've had about enough of those insults from the likes of you," and threw a strong right hand at the ugly face of his old nemesis.
Whitney was ready for such a move, leaned his head back far enough for the punch to miss, and caught Tom's hand. He laughed, "Ha, ha, ha, ha! You ain't even learned how to fight yet, have you Anderson!"
Mrs. White screamed, "That's enough boys! Stop it right now! I won't have any fighting in my place! Sit down, Tom, and finish your food! Let go of him, Del!""Well, well, well, saved by a woman this time! Ha, ha, ha! Same old Tom Anderson!" laughed Del.
Tom didn't say anything, but took his seat and began eating, his eyes watching the obnoxious Whitney.
"I can't enjoy my food with him starting at me, Mrs. White, I'm leaving," and Whitney stood up, jammed his hat on his head, said "Thanks for the meal, I'll see you next time," and left.
Tom turned his blue eyes to Mrs White and said, "Good riddance."