JT EVERGREEN SHORT STORIES

“Hello.” “Chip?” “No.” Whispers, “Shit.” “Excuse me?” “Sorry. Is this Clearbrook 3 6148?” “Yes, it is.” Whispers, “God dammit.” “Sir?” “Sorry.” “God’s last name is not Dammit.” “What? Oh.” Laughter. “I’m sorry. Someone gave me your number.” “Chet?” “Yes.” “He’s not here.” “Right. Hey, is that Gilda Radner singing in the background?” “Yes, it is.” “Sounds like ‘Let’s talk dirty to the animals’.” “Yes, it is.” “I’ve been looking all over for that thing. Where did you find it?” “On the Internet.” “Do you remember where?” “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Would you like the URL?” “Yes, I would.” “I’ll need your email address.” “Great. It’s nick an nora charles, all one word, at gmail dot com.  That’s ‘an nora’, not ‘and nora’.” “Got it. Are you a fan?” “Of Gilda?” “No, Nick and Nora Charles.” “Oh, yeah. I’ve got all their films.” “I’ll send that URL right away.” “Who are you.? What’s your name?” “Nick Charles.” I laugh...

“Someone’s at the door. Hold on.” “Okay . . . I’m holding … on and on and on. I’ve been holding on for nine bloody years. Is this a gay date or what? If you’re not interested in love everlasting with me along with hot erotic encounters, go away. Leave me alone. Pick up your copy of Engineering, or Golf, or International Tiddlywinks. Stick your nose into that and enjoy yourself, if you can. Or better yet, go find yourself a straight date … that is if you can find one. That would be comical. What have I been doing wrong all these years that leaves me withering like a dried up tree trunk on the side of the road – soon to topple over and be trampled underfoot. I’d give my eye teeth for a good solid, meaningful relationship with you – other than my left hand. Why is making a commitment so difficult for you?” “What the hell are you rambling about?” “Sorry, Pete. Didn’t realize you were back. Who was at the door?” “UPS, with the birthday present you sent. Thank you.  How did ...

As told by Hank Dawson I thought I had it all figured out . . . falling in love that is. When it finally happened, I was clueless – totally unprepared, and I proceeded to make a bigger fool out of myself than I thought possible. In retrospect, love slowly creeps up on its hands and knees until you suddenly realize you’re up to your ears – no … up to your eyes in love – and then it’s too late; you're hopelessly at the mercy of one of nature's greatest forces. All kidding aside, it was one of the worst and most exciting experiences in my life, and I’m certain I would never survive it a second time. I thought it would be like having Doris Day smiling and singing Love Someone in the background. Instead, it turned out to be more like Louis Armstrong blowing that damned horn of his and laughing his ass off; singing Why do Fools Fall in Love , punctuated with Edith Piaf serenading me in French which didn’t make any sense, but that’s how I saw it. And those cute l...

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...

I only held him in my arms for a brief time before releasing him into the dark waters. But in that time, so much of who he was flowed into my being, into my heart, into my soul, I was reluctant to let him go. But, I knew – he would die if I did not make the sacrifice. I yawned, stretched and got out of bed. It was a long holiday weekend and I found myself at odds with what to do. The last few weeks had been treacherous at work. I needed to get away for a few days. The love of my life had passed away five years earlier but I still wasn’t over it. I wondered if I would ever get over it. The idea of finding someone new was beyond consideration. I would never let myself become so absorbed, so entwined, so dedicated to another human being. I couldn’t go through that pain of loss again. I did have Max, a pup we had shared from the day he was born, three years before Jeff left me. It was some consolation, though I wondered how many more years before Max passed on. The lifespan of p...