JT EVERGREEN SHORT STORIES

Based on the lyrics from ‘Mr. Sandman’ By The Chordettes, 1954 “Who are you?” “I’m the Sandman.” “Oh, really. And what’s your first name pray tell?” “Pray tell? My first name is Clyde, and be very careful.” “Clyde Sandman? You’re kidding?” “Do I look like I’m kidding? Smart-ass.” “Cute. Are you ‘the’ Sandman?” “What do you mean by that?” “Are you the Sandman who can bring me the man of my dreams?” “Depends.” “On What?” “Can you sing: bung, bung, bung, bung…?” “Do I have to?” “No, just thought I’d ask.” “Who’s the smart-ass now?” “Hum, point taken. Now, let’s get down to business.” “Yes, let’s.” “I’ve got a couple of gents lined up which may be of interest to you.” “Wonderful.” “Do they have to be the cutest that you’ve ever seen?” “That would be nice, but not necessary. But I don’t want one that looks like a mud fence.” “In the dark, does it matter?” “I have a photographic memory so, ye...

It was late July as Hans stepped into the temperate waters of the Aegean Sea. He thought of the thousands of years of history in this part of the world as he waded into deeper waters. He was on holiday, visiting friends in Izmir, Turkey. He had never been to this part of Europe and was pleased to be here. His foot embraced an object buried just beneath the surface of the sand. He thought it a rock at first, but the sharpness caused him to stop. He scraped the sand away with his foot, then bent over and reached down to the sea bottom. The sharp object was the corner of some kind of a handle, or so he thought.  He was able to place his hand through and around the object and pulled. Nothing happened. He smiled to himself, thinking he had stumbled on an ancient treasure. He continued pushing the sand away with his foot.  It was indeed a handle, attached to something. He wasn’t sure what it might be. He knew he would never find it again if he went to shore to get assista...

    His name . . . Spangler Arlington Brugh. Yeah, I know. Who in their right mind would hang a name like that on an infant? But, they did. I met Spangler as a freshman at Beatrice High School. That’s in Nebraska. It was 1927. Our affair would last three years until he graduated in 1929.  It was several years later I learned his name had been changed to Robert Taylor by his Hollywood employer. His fame as an actor grew fast, far, and wide as did my melancholy for the loss of my first love. He loved Nebraska and came back as often as he could; always making a point of stopping by to say hi to me and Kadar who had grown into a beautiful Arabian stallion. Kadar, which means powerful, always remembered Robert in spite of his long absences. He would rear on his hind legs and whinny loudly when he saw his old friend. It was heartwarming to know I wasn’t the only one who missed him. The affair was over, at least for Spangler, even though he often hinted he regretted...

As told by J.T. Townsend I laughed when Tommy and Bert made the suggestion. We had been friends ever since I moved to San Francisco ten years earlier. “I don’t need a blind date, guys.” “Well, you need something. You’re not getting any younger, you know.” Tommy was being kind for a change. "We'll go with you, like a double date." Bert cozied up to me and put his arm over my shoulder. "Please." “Get away from me. I hate when you do that.” I turned away so he could not see me smiling. “But is it working?” Bert persisted. “Who is this guy and why is it so bloody important that I go out with him?” I probably should not have said that because they both moved in with more information about the man than I needed to know. “Okay, his name is Charlie McDonald and he’s a really nice guy. So what? How old is he?” “A few years older.” Tom was being evasive. Then who?” “Then you.” “Tom, how many few years older? And don’t yo...