Moving On by Bobby Warner

Next day One-Eyed Jake woke and scratched his belly. “A man can stand just so much kibble and cream, then he’s gotta move on.”

“You’re right,” said Fleece.

“I’m shore glad that picture of your ma dropped outta your pocket back in Miami. And I’m double glad I just nicked your ears instead of blowing my own son full of holes!”

“Me, too, Papa. Let’s go up to Houston and rent a hotel room. I think I can write a few best-sellers like Hemingway, then we can get us an estate, too.”

“Sounds like a winner, son. Let’s get going!”

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