T his is the story of Bubba Joe
Bubba Joe was the meanest, most fowl and stinky cowboy in the town of Summer Snow
He had no friends, no family only a countless foe
Bubba Joe hated every living thing
He walked down the street as if he were king
He drank warm beer and pissed fire
Known to all as the town liar
Wondering forever in this towns mire
He was known to have killed people dead
For as little as something said
Leaving their lifeless bodies along the banks of the Dead Man’s Creek Bed
All of the poor souls were shot in the head
The town’s Sheriff was a good man with braveness a plenty
His brave face was starting to dull as the body count was nearing twenty
He knew one day he would have to face Bubba Joe
Or the road would be a rough one to hoe
None of the town’s people could remember the last time they had seen Bubba Joe’s ugly face in the town of Summer Snow
Some of the old timers would spin a tale or two about Bubba Joe
But they would whisper these tales as they did not want him to hear nor did they want him to see the terror on their faces so the loud voices they would forgo
The town of Summer Snow knew to well what would happen next
As the Sheriff prepared for combat
He knew where to find the #1 suspect
The Sheriff’s horse walked slowly towards the dark woods
Bubba Joe lived in a run down old shack just outside of town as far out as he could
And still be able to keep his eye on his herd
He would pick the weakest one out and not be deterred
The Sheriff knew this could be his final ride and what he was about to embark
were the deepest, thickest woods that were so black that he whispered to himself “dang it’s dark”
The shack had only a trickle of light glowing in one window as he could see through the dark trees
There was a slight whisper of a breeze that held a smell which could have only come from hell
The Sheriff walked softly up onto the old creaky porch as he leaned forward to knock on the door he noticed the old torn curtains moving in the window about that same time the image became clear
two eyeballs filled with terror…..he leaned closer and could see the face clear enough that it registered in his brain that this person’s lips were stitched shut, muffled screams, hands bloody, banging at the window. He could feel the evil very very near
He stepped back and lost his balance falling down through the porch down through to the cellar…falling, falling, the sound of his body hitting the dirt floor with a loud thud, he didn’t want to open his eyes……
oh my god, oh my god………the fear
To read the rest of Bubba Joe’s story please send a note to the author P.S. Kennedy…….
See ya’ll later
