My Guardian Idiot ~ fantasy tales for your funny bone by Barbra Annino

Author:Barbra Annino [Annino, Barbra]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dane House
Published: 2013-12-30T05:00:00+00:00

One week and nine books later, Stephen King caught up with Roy at Ethel’s.

The writer slid in next to Roy and ordered a cup of hot tea. Roy was so engrossed in The Stand that he didn’t even notice the company.

“Hi Roy,” said King. “You look well.”

Roy looked up. He had smoothed some pomade on his head and was wearing a crisp white shirt. Didn’t want to look sloppy in front of Ethel.

Mr. King glanced at the book. “Taking your work to breakfast, I see.”

Roy smiled. “I’ve been reading quite a bit of your work. Have to say you’ve a real knack for it.”

“Well, I thought I’d share with you what I’ve been working on lately.” King slid some papers to Roy.

They were black and white sketches of a little boy and his pet rabbit. The first sketch showed the boy gathering eggs from a refrigerator. The second had him talking to the rabbit and asking him to hide the eggs. The third had the rabbit looking confused and telling the boy that Easter was over.

It was awful. No color, no character. Roy didn’t know what to say.

“It’s just a start,” said the author. He took the papers and stuffed them into his pocket. “So did you come up with a quote?”

Roy wasn’t sure how to tell this man that burying his life’s work was wrong. Just plain wrong to rob the world of his talent. Page after page, Roy grew to love those books. They weren’t sad. They were mesmerizing. It opened his eyes, learnin’ about people who had it worse off than he was. Made him see that he had it pretty good in his little corner of the world. Least he wasn’t being hunted by a deranged clown or a rabid dog. Nor had he ever had pig’s blood doused on him and for that, he was thankful.

Reading had opened doors for him that he thought had been locked shut.

Ethel slid a platter of scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast in front of Roy and asked, “So we still on for tonight?”

Roy smiled and nodded and Ethel sauntered away.

Stephen King seemed to study Roy. “Roy, the quote?”

The old man turned to the author and said. “I can’t do it, Mr. King. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

Roy twisted in his stool. “You don’t take away hope with your words. You give hope. Heck, even gave me hope. Before I cracked open your books, I was a lonely man. Now look at me.”

King did look for a long while. Then he frowned. “What about the hate mail? The people who are afraid?”

“I bet for every bad one you get twenty good ones. Am I right?” Roy raised an eyebrow.

King nodded. He paused before he spoke again. “You know, you do that too,” he said softly and sipped his tea.

Roy sat back, surprised. “Naw, not me.”

“Yes, you. You give people closure. Comfort at their most trying times. They know that when they put their loved ones in your hands, they’re safe. And they know that life goes on.

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