Michael Jefferson

“Dirty Dan” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #204

Buckeye, Arizona 1888 Dan Dobler slithers down Main Street spitting tobacco juice, his blind, milky left eye enhancing his threatening personality. Dobler’s poverty-stricken appearance and penchant for violence have earned him the nickname “Dirty Dan.” Townspeople find it hard to believe that the twenty-six-year-old Dobler is heir to Calvin “King” Coleman’s “King’s Ransom,” the largest ranch in Buckeye. A curious hound dog trails Dobler. He turns toward it, kicking it in the side. “Git away from me, ya mangy cur!” The dog barks angril...

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“I Was Gonna Offer You a Brewski, But I see You’re Covered” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #203

Her hand shaking as she wipes the tears away from her rosy cheeks, Modesty Naylor, soda mogul Percival Warren Naylor’s shapely twenty-seven-year-old widow, leans against her mother Empress for comfort. Modesty’s babyish lisp endears her to the reporters and photographers gathered by her Olympic pool to interview her. “I wuved him. I weally did. But people wouldn’t wet me.” Embarrassed by the cutting headline he’d published the day before, (“Gorgeous Gold Digger Strikes Gold As 92-Year-Old Soda King Goes Pop!”). Eyewitness News Reporter Har...

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“You Killed My Daddy” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #202

Casper, Wyoming 1891 Buck Brumley takes a long pull off his whiskey glass. “I wanted to run away, but I didn’t have any money, so I’d stay anywhere folks in town would let me. After a few days, I’d go home and face my daddy’s wrath. One time, Cade caught me sleepin’ in his brother’s livery stable. Despite him bein’ well off and educated, and me bein’ poor and stupid, we hit it off. Cade got me a job at the stable. I kept needlin’ him that he was too young to be so serious, that we should be fourteen-year-old pirates and go off on adventur...

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“And You Have to Pay for the Elephant Too” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #201

London Langtree continues to twist the tuning pegs on his guitar, a task he began over an hour ago. As if to excuse his obsession, the frail, blonde-haired musical genius smiles boyishly at his bandmates. Axel Welch, Rails Rainsford, and Steady Eddie Evans glance nervously at each other as the rumble from the impatient crowd thunders in the background. “Gimme that!” Axel, Mystic Touch’s husky, short-tempered rhythm guitarist yells, yanking the instrument from London’s hands. Frustrated, Axel twists the tuning pegs until two of the strings...

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“Death Cab Confessions” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #200

The first thing Cliff Farren notices about the Director’s office is that everything is pure and blinding white. Looking at Margana, the Director of R.R. (Reprobate Renewal), Cliff’s thoughts turn less than pure. A striking beauty with platinum blond hair, Margana’s wide brown eyes cast a doubtful look at him. “When I was told I’d be seeing the Director, I was expecting some scrawny librarian with a hunchback, not somebody as stunning as Marilyn Monroe.” “Insincere sexist compliments won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Farren.” “I really mean i...

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“The Guardians of Yin and Yang” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #199

“Slow down,” Burton Bradshaw says, watching Matt Omar down his third vodka tonic. “Just getting my shore legs back.” “You think so?” the suave English bartender says. “Another one of those and you won’t be able to feel your legs. I think it’s odd that you work on a ship with unlimited booze- which you never touch - then you come here to drink like a fish.” “Maybe I like the company better.” “What company? You watch ESPN and drink alone. How was the cruise?” “Uneventful.” “There wasn’t a single dowager for you to prey on?” “No, I didn’...

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“Bouncin’ Benny and the Bonehead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #198

Bouncin’ Benny, the kingdom’s testy enchanted crow, caws, laughing. His mocking laughter echoes throughout Baldor the magician’s extravagant living quarters. “So, this is the kid you think can turn back the rebel army?” Chip, Baldor the magician’s seventeen-year-old apprentice, smiles meekly, his reed-thin body, freckles, and crippling shyness making him appear even younger. “Yes, he’s the one,” Baldor insists. The stocky, good-natured seventy-two-year-old Baldor has served King Ruppert Vontobel since the 1980s, and his father, Moonjack,...

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“Little Bill and The Dead Man’s Hand” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #197

Ryan August waits patiently as the green, blue, and white gases coalesce into the form of a head. With turquoise skin, arched eyebrows, intense pitch-black eyes, and a pointed black beard, the Great Maker’s presence is both wise and fearsome. “You summoned me, Great Maker?” Ryan asks humbly. The Great Maker’s voice is resonant and determined. “Yes. I have a new task for you. Since you performed so well in saving the Earp Brothers from the cowboys in Tombstone, I am sending you to Deadwood, South Dakota, in 1876. Your assignment is to save...

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“Sunny” by Michael Jefferson

Administrator Chao glances at the ancient black-and-white photograph of two smiling boys. The older boy, a lanky blonde with sad eyes, has a protective arm around the smaller, sandy-haired boy with a shy smile. “The little guy is my uncle Somerfield,” Christoph Brandt says. “Everybody called him Sunny because he had a sweet disposition.” “It’s a shame he died so young,” Chao replies, pushing her glasses up off the end of her nose as she examines Christoph’s request.  “I want to do this for Lucas, my father. He was only eleven when Su...

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“And By the Way, the Drummer is Dead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #195

Taking off his rose-colored sunglasses, Booker Fortune exits the elevator, snapping his fingers as Traffic’s “Rock N’ Roll Stew” plays in his head. The percussive tune gives his feet a jolt, and he dances into his talent office, waving at his assistant, Hedy. Booker’s agency manages half a dozen successful rock acts, none bigger than Topsoil. During their seven-year existence, Topsoil has released five chart-topping, multi-diamond selling albums, won a dozen Grammys, and played hundreds of sold-out concerts. The Achilles heel of the group h...

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“The Day’s Not Over Until I Get Hit On The Head With Another Boat” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #194

“It’s simple, really, all you have to do is fall.” If there is anything Brick Boylan had learned from working in three films with self-absorbed sixty-eight-year-old director Desmond Ford Wilder, it was that Desmond viewed stunt people as disposable and their contributions to film as negligible. The portly director with the bad toupee called people bubala and acted like everyone’s favorite jolly uncle, but Brick knew Desmond would sacrifice his family for a good take. Brick has broken thirty-five bones, including six ribs, had twelve concus...

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“That Man’s Too Ugly to Be My Child” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #193

“Maybe I should have ordered an Uber,” Andy Grech says, as the snow begins to fall harder. The stocky bass player bites his nails as he gets into a white Monte Carlo SS. “I hear these cars are really bad in the snow.” “Not if you’re an expert driver like me,” Niko Neary replies. The spiffy high school teacher fancies himself an expert on everything, including the oncoming blizzard. Zipping up his Canada Goose parka, he pulls his warm wool cap close to his ears. He views the trip as an adrenaline rush, a way to show his superiority, this t...

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“Mister Moonlight” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #192

“Well, another crackin’ solution for a franchise in trouble, Ringo,” Hollingsworth McVey says, slapping Ronin “Ringo” Ryland on the back. Ringo drops his head, his Beatle-esque hairdo covering his sad brown eyes. “I wish we could have done things differently.” “No other way, duck,” Hollingsworth replies in a pert English accent. “In order to turn a profit this year, Bell, Book, and Candle had to close most of their stores. Who in their right mind opens up a hundred and seventy-five new age stores anyway?” “Closing a hundred fifty of them ...

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“Bedford Sty ‘Till I Die” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #191

Laura Kilgore opens the door to the palatial mansion she shares with her husband, heavyweight champion Kellin Kilgore. Pierre Cerdan takes off his beret, smiling sheepishly as he steps inside. The anxious manager can already feel himself starting to sweat. “It’s been two months. I think it’s time Kellin did an interview. How are you doing, Laura?” “Coping.” “Thank you for doing that piece for 60 Minutes. They used a lot of past footage of Kellin, so it was like he was being interviewed live too. You made him look very sympathetic.” “I wa...

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“I Can’t Spend Money I Ain’t Got Yet If I’m Dead” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #190

Chugwater, Wyoming 1888 The three riders stare silently as Micah Tomlin’s ramshackle home catches fire. “Think anybody’s gonna see the smoke?” Harmon asks. “Nope. You and Jumbo are my closest neighbors. The others hate me too much to care.” “Never get in bed with a lawyer,” Jumbo says. “You tryin’ to be funny, Jumbo?” Pulling his soiled hat down around his grey eyes, twenty-six-year-old Harmon Jones looks away. He won’t miss Micah’s wife, Enid, any more than his cousin will, but their partner, Jackson St. John, treated Harmon squar...

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