Just finished a story I've been working at, on and off, for several months now. Maybe I'll send it to someone. Maybe not... hard to figure a market that would want to buy it.
Anyway, it's called THE LAST TRUMP, and it's another of my pulp pastiches. Read it, don't read it, comment, don't comment. Whatever.
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So this Boy Scout, couldn't have been older than eleven, is holding up this kinda chubby looking Scotch Pine. It was.... ehhhh... okay...
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