Dickey Dew

by Barry Graham

One of my father’s friends never had a name so everyone called him Dickey Dew because he said that’s what everyone called him after he got his balls shot off in Vietnam. I used to sit on his lap while they played five card draw and he would pretend not to see me sipping from his can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. My mother walked into the kitchen as I set the beer back down on the table, and I got scared and spilled it all over my lap and down my pant leg, and my father always laughed when people got scared. Some of the beer spilled on Dickey Dew’s pants, so he told me to play his hand while he tried to convince my mother to clean him up. I had four to a flush and a pair of tens, so I dumped one of the tens, missed my flush and watched my father rake in the pot. "You're a brave little sonofabitch," he said, but I knew I wasn't, it's just easier to fuck up when the cards you're holding don't belong to you.


Barry Graham's writing has appeared (or will shortly) in the following publications in 2007: Storyglossia, Weathervane, Prick of the Spindle, Nimble Few, 50/50, Cellar Roots, Insolent Rudder, Dogzplot, and Tuesday Shorts. His short story collection "The National Virginity Pledge" will be released upon the world in 2008. Barry Graham is large, he contains multitudes.