The juxtaposition is my favorite literary device. Perhaps because it embodies me in many ways. Or perhaps it embodies how I perceive myself.

The stark reality is I am a middle class, white male from a very rural part of a Southern state. …


Once upon a time, I was paid actual money to write a weekly newspaper column. It was for a small newspaper in my hometown. It was a humor column.

For no reason than sheer nostalgia, I went back to read a few of my old tomes recently. …


Freshman English at Pikeville High School meant two things: William Shakespeare and Layne Tackett. The former, you would study. The latter would study you.

Mr. Tackett was intimidating for such a small man. He was wiry, but in a mountain man, don’t-mess-with-me kind of way. His graying, dark beard hid either a smirk or a smile and there wasn’t much between the two.

As one student read a passage, Mr. Tackett would wide-eye over…


The Ironic Reality of Being Distinguished

My voice mail notification showed a new message. The text version of the recording my phone produces automatically after wouldn’t have won any awards at the annual transcription convention. It read, in part:

“Good morning chasing. This is ran deed robbers. I called to…


It’s not normal human behavior to mace yourself. But you just don’t understand the extent to which I will go to fuck with Stewart.

Stewart Theodore Davis, or as I call him, STD, is wiry thin with frozen turkey skin. His bulbous forehead protrudes from a dome with no chin…


The physical manifestation of Milton’s strength ripples just under the skin on either arm as he pulls a metal file toward his chest. …


Died-in-the-wool rednecks and Southerners are hard nuts to crack. The explanation lies mostly in that when focused on the cracking you forget the requisite circumstance: They’re nuts.

The first words Merle said to me were, “Hey man! You ain’t queer or nothin’ are ya?”

I should have known then my…


“Your presence is respectfully requested,” read the letter. But Stewart made it abundantly clear there was nothing respectful about it.

“If you fail to appear, our next course of action will be to subpoena you, Mr. Patterson, and, well, then you’ll have to appear.”

“Got news for you Stewart,” I…


I’d never been to Cut Bank, Montana. Why would any one go there? It’s about halfway between Great Falls and the Canadian border, which is to say, it’s a good place, depending upon the time of year, to freeze to death or be eaten by a moose.

In August, it’s…


(This is a backlog story written in March 2020.)

I cried real tears today. Crocodile tears.

A couple false starts trickled in this morning, then again halfway through the movie I was watching to pass the time. But then, just before the movie ended, I paused it and sobbed. It…

Jason Falls

Writer & published author. Marketing strategist & podcaster. Father & mediocre boyfriend. I think I’m funny, too.

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