The Robbins: old farts gone bad
I’m writing a new novel. My wife and I recently bought an RV–whoops, I mean “motor coach”–and are starting to travel and meet the rather eclectic mix of people who do the same thing. Fascinating. So I’m thinking: what sort of trouble can a couple of travelling old farts get into?
Here’s a clip:
Early October 2015
The tall old man pressed against the rough concrete block wall, pushed his wispy silver hair—what was left of it—back along the sides of his head, and waited. The footsteps grew fainter then stopped, followed by the distant sound of a car door opening.
He had disabled a wall-mounted security light with a rock, but it still had a strange blue glow that didn’t do much to illuminate the side of the store; he still felt exposed. He pulled his worn olive-drab coat tighter against the night chill, pushed up his thick glasses and controlled his breathing as best he could as the headlights of the saleslady’s car swung around the corner then pointed toward the main road. After a moment, it receded and almost total quiet returned.
Wayne Robbins flexed his hands, scratched… Continue reading