Dave Wright Writes

  Charles by Dave Wright I was lying on my back. Charles was on top of me. Gravel ground into my back as I attempted to squirm into a more comfortable position. I squinted to get a better view of his belly. We were having another spat. I shouted, “I’m just trying to help you.” My efforts were rewarded with a trickle of warm fluid that ran down my forearm. “Is that pee?” I never liked Charles, but he was my wife’s first love, so I put up with him…for a time. She claimed their relationship was plutonic. I had my doubts. He came into our relationship like a favorite pet. How could I refuse to adopt him? The love of my life at the time was The Doba , a regal ‘76 Chrysler Cordoba with a hood ornament so far away it was out of focus from the driver’s seat. Charles first met The Doba in the Eustis Avenue apartment parking lot. Charles threw an immediate fit of jealousy. Charles was the color of a rotting cherry. The Doba sported a sparling tan exterior with a two-tone vinyl ...

  Turn Into the Wind by Dave Wright The party spread out over a vast expanse of manicured grass. Tables covered with linen table clothes laden with hors d’oeuvres that I could not pronounce and did not recognize had been set up on the lawn. A three-story, red-bricked mansion loomed in the background, its chandeliers twinkling through French doors. Uniformed maids emerged from the house to replenish the food trays. Lake Minnetonka stretched beyond the beach and sparkled like champagne. Guests dressed in floral skirts and elegant Oxford shorts mingled with one another holding crystal glasses and plates heaped with delicacies. “I don’t like the façade, and it only has five bedrooms,” said one of the guests. “Reginald assured me that we would remodel soon.” “We just purchased a Rogue Cabin Cruiser,” said another. “I can’t wait to tour the lake with it.” We had been invited to a birthday party for a college friend. His older sister’s friend of a friend had married well and was ...

  I have compiled and edited my veterinary stories in a new book, “Oh, It’s You: The Extraordinary Life of a Veterinarian.” The stories, including a new one (“So Ya’ Did This Yourself Then”) are woven together as an entertaining and informative glimpse into my veterinary career. Find the paperback and e-book at:   https://a.co/d/3BpUqKn OR It will be available at Buffalo Books later in October. You can also contact me for a personalized copy. Thanks for reading! Dave

  Sadie Pfiefer by Dave Wright Nine-year-old Sadie Pfiefer is at her place in the cotton mill. It’s six a.m. A steam whistle shrieks. A single light bulb hanging over the hall dims as the colossal looming machine rumbles to life. The South Carolina heat has already invaded the textile factory. Flecks of cotton stick to Sadie’s hand as she pieces together the first broken thread of the day. She wipes the back of her hand on her dress, a rag that has been handed down to her by four older sisters. Hundreds of bobbins spin like a parade of ballet dancers. She approaches a spindle that has lost its pirouette a few feet down the row. A strand of cotton thread hangs loose from the spool above it. Wisps of cotton flutter over the floor. The noise is deafening. As Sadie pulls the stalled bobbin from its place and pieces the thread together, the foreman rushes past her with a snort. She tries to hold her breath. He smells like Pappy—a rank combination of sweat, onions, and beer. They ca...

  Revenge of Mary Jo Bilke by Dave Wright This story is dedicated to the many women who have joined the ‘Me Too’ Movement. This is a work of fiction. Although some places may be real, all characters and events are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. [1993] Mary Jo Bilke arrived at the Phantom Hills Ranch a half-hour early. A dose of Special K, something she had purchased on a street corner earlier in the week was tucked into her purse. She wore a loose white silk blouse, a tight navy-blue skirt, and red pumps. She sat at the oak dining room table to wait. A trickle of sweat made its way between her tan breasts as she placed a new bottle of Glenlivet next to her purse on the table. A picture window commanded a view of the ranch’s long driveway and a blue Montana sky. Heat waves radiated off the late-afternoon desert floor. A small cloud of dust app...