“Mama & Papa” is a silly little short story that appeared in my book, Both Ways Home. I hope you enjoy this weird tale of bravado, bruised egos, and a lucky bet. Enjoy!

Mama & Papa

Hemingway’s Poolhall on Wurzbach Avenue became a regular haunt in my final days in San Antonio, but I never expected to meet the man himself in that nefarious establishment. His reputation solidified into a thunderhead force within minutes of his arrival. Every time he shoved someone out of the way to get another beer, his buddies laughed and egged him on as he mugged and posed and talked in a loud, clean baritone about the men he’d seen die in Spain and Africa and how he’d outlasted them all. He shouted “Bully!” whenever someone played Foreigner or Bad Company on the jukebox. The little song the electric dart machine chirped out from the corner every five minutes made him roar with delight and he’d sing back in imitation. His beard and teeth glowed blue in the neon of the bar.