Trulbert: The Final Installment (IV)

 – 7AM, November 10, 2015:  Holsten’s Restauraunt, Newark, NJ

“But what was it all about?” Carmela asked, as the sound of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” warbled on the jukebox in the background.

Tony and AJ focused on the menu.

“What was what all about?” Tony grunted as AJ compared the Sicilian and German style pork chops.

“The whole thing about the Methodists?”

“Jeez, mom.  They’re a generic yet absurdist enemy figure, selected to avoid bogging the story down in actual current events that would distract from the real theme”, AJ snapped, impatient with his mom.

“Yeah”, Tony grunted.  “What the f*** ya gonna do?”

“Yeah, but why?” Carmela insisted.

Tony started to answer, but noted the dinging of the bell on the door as Meadow walked into the diner, just as the voice of Steve Perry sang the final…

Is this, in fact, how “Trulbert” really ends?  

Check back this summer, when “Trulbert:  A Comic Novella About the End of the World As We Know It” comes out on E-Book!

Featuring new material not found in the blog serial (including, like, an actual ending and a regulation denouement!)

From Buffalo Microchip Publishing

3 thoughts on “Trulbert: The Final Installment (IV)

  1. Mitch sat at the keyboard, chuckling softly to himself. He started typing…. Trulbert: The Final Installment (XXVVIV)

    The door creaked open, but because he had his BOSE earphones on, pumping his head full of “The River”, he didn’t hear them come in, didn’t know they were there until the first Irish Spring filled pillow case found it’s mark.

  2. The silvery mist was touched with the first rays of the moonlight, and the same rays touched the tears that dropped from her eyes. Not knowing that I saw them, and setting herself to get the better of them, she said quietly-

    ‘Were you wondering, as you walked along, how it came to be left in this condition?’

    ‘Yes, Scarlett.’

    ‘The ground belongs to me. It is the only possession I have not relinquished. Everything else has gone from me, little by little, but I have kept this. It was the subject of the only determined resistance I made in all the wretched years.’

    ‘Is it to be built on?’

    ‘At last it is. I came here to take my leave of it before its change. And you,’ she said in a voice of touching interest to a wanderer, ‘you live abroad still?’

    ‘Still.’

    ‘And do well, I am sure?’

    ‘I work pretty hard for a sufficient living, and therefore – Yes, I do well.’

    ‘I have often thought of you,’ said Scarlett.

    ‘Have you?’

    ‘Of late, very often. There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth. But since my duty has not been incompatible with the admission of that remembrance, I have given it a place in my heart.’

    ‘You have always held your place in my heart,’ I answered. And we were silent again, until she spoke.

    ‘I little thought,’ said Scarlett, ‘that I should take leave of you in taking leave of this spot. I am very glad to do so.’

    ‘Glad to part again, Scarlett? To me, parting is a painful thing. To me, the remembrance of our last parting has been ever mournful and painful.’

    ‘But you said to me,’ returned Scarlett very earnestly, ‘”God bless you, God forgive you!” And if you could say that to me then, you will not hesitate to say that to me now – now, when suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but- I hope- into a better shape. Be as considerate and good to me as you were, and tell me we are friends.’

    ‘We are friends,’ said I, rising and bending over her, as she rose from the bench.

    ‘And will continue friends apart,’ said Scarlett.

    I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her.

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