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Buddy Holly Night at the Bone God's Lair [MultiFormat]
eBook by A. R. Morlan
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$1.70 |
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$1.45 |
eBook Category: Alternate History
eBook Description: "Originally," writes author A. R. Morlan, "I was planning to merely do a story concerning a Buddy Holly who survived that fatal cornfield crash; how his career would by stymied by his injuries, how his life wouldn't quite get back on track, how he'd wind up doing the Rock Fest circuit, playing all his old hits to ever-younger crowds who wouldn't really know who or what he was to their elders. But that particular story wouldn't gel. But there was a bartender at the place where Buddy was scheduled to play who insisted on giving him grief, messing with his mind--and it was when I realized that the bartender just had to be yet another supposedly dead rocker that this novelette began to fall into place in my mind."
eBook Publisher: Rosetta Solutions, Inc., Published: 1997
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2001
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [147 KB], eReader (PDB) [54 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [33 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [30 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [107 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [104 KB], hiebook (KML) [101 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [78 KB], iSilo (PDB) [28 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [35 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [69 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [49 KB]
Words: 9800
Reading time: 28-39 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Wisconsin, Winter, 1991...
Six-thirty came and went; when no Bone-God came sliding around the back door, hooded eyes sly, full lips doing the bad-boy twitch, I started setting up the bar myself. Long straws and stir-sticks in their clear compartments on either side of the napkin holder, fresh pile of funny-sayings napkins in the middle, shot glasses in a line across the folded clean bar towel, almost-clean towel on the metal ring next to the ice tank, five scoops of new ice in the tank itself, put out the bowls of bar chum, turn on the running waterfall of beer sign and the neon BUD guitar, give the pour-liquor bottles a perfunctory swipe with the bar rag, and between every motion I kept looking for the goddamn Bone-God to come slithering in, apologies dripping like manna off his lips.
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