About the Book

The sun blazes down on Main Street. The little old feller sitting outside the barber-shop hears a dry rhythmic squeaking and sees the stranger riding into town. On a bicycle. The stranger lowers himself to the ground, grimacing. The old feller pauses, cigarette between his lips and a match in his hand. He pushes his hat back on his head, wondering what kinda darned fool is out in this heat.  The stranger asks, ‘Any idea where I can get this fixed?’  The old feller strikes the match on his boot-heel. Lights his cigarette. ‘We-ell,’ he says, and inhales deeply, ‘there used to be a feller.’ He lets the smoke out in a long slow plume. ‘But he died.’ 

Author: Alan Wilkinson

201 pages (Paperback)