harryhero

Harry Hero is a collaborative family writing project. He began as typing practice for author #6 in the mid-seventies. Authors M, 1, 4, 5, 7, spontaneously and sarcastically contributed until Harry took on a life and momentum of his own. He was reborn as a Christmas project in the early nineties and again as a web project in the new millennium. Once more Harry has risen from near tragic and certain literary deaths to live again as blog practice. Bulwer-Lytton judges take note.

About Me

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It seems I have suffered and survived a few insults and injuries to my cranium, thus my memory does not lend itself to one seamless life I could call my own. Instead, my life seems to be one dim episode after another documented by a random and rather odd conglomeration of assorted biographers who, for some bizarre reason, seem compelled to document my trials as if I were a remarkable hero. Heroism can take many forms. Perhaps it is finding fresh strawberries in November for the Manhattan socialite's crepes as she breaks her fast. Perhaps it is found in a multitude of skills, lucky breaks and death defying feats. It may be true that piloting my faithful rig, Betsy, through the Canadian Rockies is not for the weak of spirit, mind or body; I claim no special talents other than devoted love and endless hope. Love of a good truck, a good cup coffee and a good adventure. Hope of self-actualization and...Sophie? If you desire a chronological –not necessarily logical- plotline begin reading at the January 26 2006 post - The Not So Constant Gardener - and follow subsequent postings to present day.

Blog Archive

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Harry crosses the street.


Sashaying in front of him, was a perfect heart shaped ass. Clandestinely clad in rump revealing burgundy shorts of satin. A glamour crime in many states; Harry thought it a crime that such perfection was covered with even a hint of clothing. Relishing the view for the remainder of the block, Harry also observed that the lady clutched two hefty bags to her tightly tuned torso. “Body by Tonka, brain by Mattel,” thought Harry, “If she changed the quarters to bills she would have less to carry and more to spend.” The enormity of his realization hit him as the WALK light flashed on. He followed the apparition from the Lucky Lady Casino, across the street to Sam’s Town Hotel and Casino. Realizing that even if he was on the right track, he would still get hit if he just stood there, Harry reached a hand out hoping that it would not be met with thin air.
“Greedy boy” came the sultry response. “Burgundy valentines must be given, not taken.”
“Unless they are there for the taking,” replied Harry.
“Follow me” she said, with a flip of her tortured tresses and contact number two was a done deal.

To be continued....
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