Chasing the Boogeyman

by Richard Chizmar

shined

I’d go with “shone.”

Robinsons’

Robinson’s

Cava-naugh

Cavanaugh

Black

I wonder if it should be “Black” or “black?” We whites don’t capitalise our race name. Should we capitalise theirs? I guess I should ask my friends who are black, shouldn’t I.

“Are your Spidey senses tingling?” I looked at her, surprised. “You’re a fan?”

Boys don’t know a lot about us. That’s probably a good thing.

Mel Fullerton was a grizzly bear of a man—six four, at least two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, ratty beard and mustache, Confederate flag on his baseball cap, pack of Red Man in his jeans pocket. He was also a first-class asshole.

I think it’s a given that a man with a confederate flag on his cap or any clothing, or on his car, is a first-class asshole.

The first fat drops of rain began to fall soon after. Scattered at first; swollen and heavy and hungry for earth; splatting on our faces, seeping into our hair; staining the roofs and hoods of the cars and the concrete driveway at our feet; all the while, beating a deep staccato rhythm, erasing the everyday sounds of the world from around us.

I’ve always loved doing this. (My da and I used to go out in the car following tornados. It drove my mum crazy. We knew they could turn on a dime, but it was worth it.) Anyway, this is a beautiful sentence describing the experience of bringing a storm home.

White.

Funny. This is the first time I’ve ever seen it capitalised. As soon as I mention that…I see it happen.

I’m watching your every move and I’m smarter than all of you.

I’m watching your every move, and I’m smarter than all of you.

While diminutive in stature—five four and one-hundred-and-ten pounds—Cassidy

I’m 5’2” and 95 pounds. I’ve never thought of myself as a “diminutive person.” It’s a great height and weight for a gymnast, and gymnastics was a huge part of my world all the way through sophomore year of college.

Her

I hope she knows her grammar and would say “she.” She would never say “her was always…”