Currently I'm working on another story, some of which may sound familiar to some of my readers:
Wayne sipped a Coca-cola as he waited for the guant man to finish the long walk from the Piggly-Wiggly and begin their journey. It was only 30 minutes to Centerpoint, but the ride would seem eternal with the one person in town he could not tolerate: his father.
His father entered the car and turned it on in one motion. The car had been his life since the divorce from Frannie, a woman of deep moral values and the brain of a deep-fried squirrel. Wayne didn't care for either of them and wondered if there was a way to jump ship from the family, but they were coming through for him in a pinch.
The draft had become a reality. Brian, a friend, had left to join the army, pre-empting any effort the government made to draft him. Wayne hadn't figured out how to avoid it, but he had decided to become less available.
"Can't say I approve," his father said as they drove down I-65, "but your mother says you can spend a bit of time with her folks while you figure this out. I say you should come to it on your own terms. It's not like they've called your number yet."
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