Sheolmate (Six Word Story 583)

Two milestones have converged today here in WordPress Land. The sun rose today not only upon my 500th Six Word Story, but this is my 100th full-length post. An unplanned coincidence, but “unplanned coincidence” is of course an apt description of my life. So I ask your indulgence to stay with me a little while longer.

For now I come to speak to you for the next week of Mustache Man. And who is Mustache Man, you ask? He is a character I first met in the 70s, a partner of sorts in the 80s, an active nemesis in the 90s, a bit of a stranger in the Oughts, and now once again a feature in my life. We have fought together, fought against one another, glared at each other over glasses of Bitburger Bier, duelled once with shanks in the cafeteria of the Youngstown City Jail, each paid one another’s bail on separate occasions. I offered to learn to play the bagpipes when he had cancer, so I could provide a proper dirge upon his departure from the world. A departure which was at that time delayed, a fact which I can neither regret nor rejoice over.

I slept with his sister, and he beat up my brother. There was an evening when we both floated down the Mahoning River from the steel mills to Packard Park in Warren on innertubes, each of us with a half gallon of Olde English and a pack of Parodi cigars to encourage conversation. Upon our exit from the river, we were chased for reasons unknown by several of Warren’s Finest from Packard Park to Big Nick’s house, where we slept off the adventure and in the morning were reunited with our cars.

You will know doubt see that I mostly hold Mustache Man in contempt, yet am fascinated with him and wish to do him justice. So indulge me this week during my walk down memory lane and mark the turnings with Six Word Stories.

Sincerely,

Finnegan