• Grave Frontier by Dusty Wallace

    I ride south, morning sun to my left, head tilted so my stetson keeps away blindness. A weeping willow stands along the dusty path, its shadows reaching toward me like skeletons in silhouette. A rabbit clears the road and hides in a briar patch. The six-shooter on my hip feels heavier than normal. Old Sally […]

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  • Tiger Tail by Dusty Wallace

    The sting of sweat hit my eyes as I spotted Mickey’s Lincoln in the parking lot of the Tiger Tail Lounge. Two giant neon tits welcomed me as I pulled in to park. The tits were wearing neon cowboy-hat pasties. Even in an outhouse of a town like Rockford, Illinois there were decency laws. The […]

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