fwriction

I woke up feeling strange. Later, while walking to get coffee, I saw a tree with the words “Fuck God” etched into the bark. Immediately, I was reminded of this Lydia Peelle story. Thus, today’s Story of the Day, bringing a bit of oddness to this final day of April:

“Twenty years in a taxidermy shop and Jack Wells has heard his share of tall tales, near misses, the one that got away. But the panther stories are different, told with pitch and fervour, a wild look in the eye. They don’t carry much truck with Jack. No one, after all, has any sort of proof – a photo, a positively identifiable set of tracks, or even a really good look at the thing. For all Jack is concerned, it’s an overgrown coyote, someone’s German shepherd, or a figment of everyone’s imagination. A mountain lion in Highland City? Sure, there’s woods out there, hills with deep hollers and abandoned tobacco fields; not a whole lot of people, nothing to the south but the Plaxco plant, nothing to the north but Kentucky – but the chances are just as good you’ll run into a woolly mammoth. People, if you ask Jack, have lost all sense.”