Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
The Best Of Fredy

The Best Of Fredy

Tymon, Philip Fred

Paperback

General Fiction

ISBN10: 1456545450
ISBN13: 9781456545451
Publisher: Createspace
Published: Apr 13 2011
Pages: 190
Weight: 0.58
Height: 0.40 Width: 5.98 Depth: 9.02
Language: English
THIS IS A COLLECTION OF SOME OF THE GREATEST SHORT STORIES WRITTEN BY PHILIP FRED TYMON I am including part of the first story in book to entice you. THE LINE I am waiting on this long line of people. I look ahead of me, and it seems in my mind the line stretches forward without my being able to see the beginning. I look behind me, and the line has no end. I don't remember why I got on this line and what I am waiting for. It seems to me I have been waiting forever. There is a young woman in front of me, and as she turns to see how long the line is behind her, my eyes come to a stop when they look into her eyes. They have the weary look of someone much older than she is. She seems embarrassed and quickly turns forward. Behind me is a very old man with a full beard. He has a vacant expression on his face. I can't see the faces of the people in front of me since they are all facing forward, but all the faces of the people behind me that I can see either have that vacant expression that the old man has, or look confused. I turn forward again and I tap the shoulder of the young woman in front of me. I can see she reluctantly turns to face me. I ask, kind of embarrassed sounding, since I am embarrassed, Do you know what we are waiting for? She seems to stutter and says, You don't know? With that, I see someone walking on the outside of the line from the front, coming in my direction. The young woman is just starting to say something in a stammer. I look down at her blouse and I see a big red stain on it. It looks like blood. I interrupt her and ask, Are you hurt? Is something wrong? She looks at me, wide eyed, and again starts to say something, but with her stammering and her weak quiet voice, I don't understand what she is saying. The old man behind me interrupts and says, Are you serious?

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