Shoeless Joe Novels & Stories

Joe was in prison. He hadn't heard from Dolly. Had Dolly turned her back on him. Everyone else had. His mother was angry with him. His father was disappointed in him. They had big dreams of Joe being a professional football P-shift. His parent’s thought Dolly was nothing more than trailer park trash. Joe should have left her alone years ago. This garbage had destroyed his life. He would now be called a drug user. People in the city were already talking about him being a drug dealer. It was the fault of this trashy girl.

"Joe Jackson. Holy shit, that's Shoeless Joe's signature." "Shoeless Joe?" He rolled his eyes, turning the Plexiglas around and around, his mouth slightly open. I hadn't seen that kind of animation on Jon's face for years. It made him look much younger than our hard life made him act. Our life sucked. *** Sleeping next to my sister on the soft, lumpy bed didn't keep me from tossing and turning. Baseball's Holy Grail collection was stashed under the box holding up the mattress. Jon helped lift the mattress to hide it, while Bitsy slept through the tilting of her bed. I'd told Jon almost the entire story, leaving out only that Mr.

When Rudney was done, he got out and saw Joe waiting at the reception area. The moment Joe saw Rudney, he broke into a smile. “Did I come at a wrong time?” Joe asked. He was dressed in a pair of faded jean trousers and a jersey shirt from his baseball club, and he also wore the neckpiece that Lily got for him on his last birthday. “There is never a wrong time for you, Joe,” Rudney said and he meant it. “I was just around the corner and I thought to say a quick hello,” Joe said. “Even though Lily is not here anymore,” Rudney mused, but he didn’t know that he was loud enough for Joe to catch his words.

And nestled amongst a cluster of surprisingly lush green cottonwoods that grew by a small creek, was a weathered, doorless shack. In the shade of the sagging, overhanging roof, I conducted my business. First, we shook hands. Two swarthy men had brought the goods. The old one was fat and grizzled; the lean young one had a red cast to his skin. Spencer rifles filled the scabbards on their saddles, and six- shooters hung from their hips. The young one had a knife sheathed in his belt, and Fat Joe, I knew, had a blade hidden in his boot as did I.

The plasters on John's arms acted like hammers, altering the shape of Joe's head. Jojo was the president of Bellenuite, a wealthy woman with a promising future. Her boyfriend could not be a hideous monster!

Wе wеrе all іn complete shock whеn hе announced it tо us аll, but I wаѕ fіnаllу рrоud thаt hе was hаngіng uр hіѕ рlауеr shoes and bесоmіng thе brоthеr I аlwауѕ wanted hіm tо bе. I thіnk lоѕіng Jоеl аѕ a sparring раrtnеr hаd tаkеn some of the ѕhіnе fоr going оut and after a near mіѕѕ being wrongly accused оf іmрrеgnаtіng one оf his mаnу skank ladies had ѕhаkеn hіm uр at thе рrоѕресt of bеіng a dаd.

At least the pair of us were armed. It has dawned on me that Aunt Jo is right. It’s them or us and I choose us. Shannen is only wearing one sneaker and while we are trying to get to Aunt Jo. Shannen’s shoeless foot got caught on something, causing her to fall. I heard that whooshing sound again as I helped her to her feet. Aunt Jo must have heard it as well, “No!” she screamed.

beforehand so he could have it ready. “Nah man, I just brought the two-thousand,” Joe said nervously. Something wasn’t right. Joe thought about running out of there. Before he could make a decision, it was made for him. He felt a hard blow on the back of his neck. Joe couldn't stop himself from falling on the cement floor. As he was passing out, he saw two pairs of black tennis shoes hovering around him.