The Baker, The Butcher and The Brewer, Part Four – The Brewer 16
Serial Fiction The Brewer had a dream. He dreamt he was the Baker. He walked about his lofty flat. (The floors and some of the furniture were littered with baby rabbits.) They were...
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Serial Fiction The Brewer had a dream. He dreamt he was the Baker. He walked about his lofty flat. (The floors and some of the furniture were littered with baby rabbits.) They were...
Serial Fiction The Brewer’s thoughts were calm and steady humming with the voice of pleasure. He spent the next few hours going over hundreds of vans-for-sale ads. He picked the three most promising...
Serial Fiction The Brewer needed information about something rather specific. He needed to know what was the protocol about unexpected art deliveries at the Modern. If a large bulk of art was delivered...
Serial Fiction The Brewer couldn’t sleep well. He woke up congested with stifled muscles and low energy. The bitter breeze and salty water had won. All the parables and allegories from the previous...
Serial Fiction Ron sat in the middle with the priest and the Brewer on his sides. He liked that because he was the biggest talker and was perfectly situated between his old and...
Serial Fiction Preparation was over. It was time for a breather. The Brewer’s math tutor always told him not to solve problems on the day before the exam. To air out. Do what...
Serial Fiction Laughter exploded around the table. The table-wear clutter dipped again and bounced right back as everyone resumed eating. The workers were too tired for lengthier inquiries into the fabric of sauce...
Serial Fiction The ham. In between bites of life the Brewer liked to walk aimless through the veins of the city. Pilgriming to unknown neighborhoods. Walking helped him arranged his thoughts. He often...
Serial Fiction Paint! Paint! Paint! Talent, ideas, brilliance, genius, drive, motivation, environment, support are all not be underestimated. They all boil down to taking notes and believing in their merits. They all take...
Serial Fiction The Brewer was walking to the Public House (the home of my bottle). As an incarnation I was a separated continuation of the scotch of that bottle. We were the same,...
Serial Fiction After her multiple obtrusive phone calls went unanswered for several days, She was filled with ecstatic tonic combination of love and hate. She radiated it so extrovertly that people would step...
Serial Fiction He smiled. She smiled harder. She pointed at her throat making a sign that she had lost her voice. The Brewer nodded in understanding. ‘It’s poetic not having to talk to...