Stink Edgewood, as he was called, grew up like most country boys. He loved to while away his time, roaming the woods and hollows, wading in and fishing the streams that crisscrossed the rolling hills of Piedmont North Carolina.
And he loved his best friend, June Bug Roach.
What could be better?
June Bug and Stink Bug were like Sten and Ken.
Better as a pair than as a single.
And at the ripe old age of nine years ten months and he didn't know how many days, Stink valued having a companion who beat away the loneliness he sometimes felt as the only kid around for miles, like a good old hick'ry stick.
And to give the devil her due, June was up for almost anything he suggested. Unlike the other work-worn grownups in the old folk's bunch.
Parley smiled whenever he saw the young lad bound over the hill.
"You'll be in a winsome, good mood, today, my June Bug," the old man muttered.
YOU ARE READING
My Timothy
General FictionA short story about an aging spinster and the incredible surprise she is keeping from her family.
