Willard and His Bowling Trophies Read Online Free

dug.
    The comic-book-reading Logan brother reopened the comic book to an ad for selling salve in your spare time and on your way home from school. He read the ad very carefully. He wondered how it would be to sell salve.

Kissing
    She hated the feeling of the rubber going into her vagina. She really had to be moist or it would hurt. He had such a beautiful penis. It had been so long since she had felt it inside of her. All she had felt for almost a year now was the rubber instead of him. It was a nightmare and he couldn’t do anything right any more.
    Oh, God!
    She rubbed her gagged mouth against his mouth in a tender kissing gesture.

‘Painting a lion from the claw’
    He couldn’t feel her and it always made him sad but that was nothing new because just about everything made him sad now. The rubber took away all the intimacy and eternity of her vagina. He hungered like a lost star for the evening sky of her inner touch.
    He was gently inside of her but he couldn’t feel her. She was lost from him, so he thought about the Greek Anthology and remembered words from ancient rimes that said, “Painting a lion from the claw.”
    What did it mean to him thinking about that as he rested upon her, trying to make love? What good would it do him to think of things like that?
    He didn’t know.

Willard, the bowling trophies and
    Greta Garbo
    They were talking as they came up the stairs.
    “Greta Garbo looked so beautiful,” John said.
    “She was really a great actress,” Pat said.
    “Too bad Connie and Bob couldn’t come with us,” John said.
    John’s key opened the front door lock and Pat pushed the door open. Across the room was the darkened outline of Willard like a dwarf tree and the religiously glowing bowling trophies.
    The click of the light switch exploded Willard and the trophies into their full presence and the glory in that presence.
    Willard looked curious. Sometimes the expression on Willard’s face would change. He was artfully constructed.
    “Hi, Willard,” Pat said. “You would have loved Greta Garbo. Hey, we should have taken Willard to see Greta Garbo.”
    “Next time,” John said. “We’ll put Willard in a child’s dress and get him in free. I can carry him in my arms. Nobody will notice.”
    “What about his beak?” Pat said.
    “We’ll think of something,” John said.

The birth of Willard
    Willard was made by an artist who lived in some isolated mountains in a part of California that was hard to find.
    The artist was in his late thirties and had had a very fucked-up life with many bad love affairs and much torment but he had somehow kept it together and was now supporting himself from his sculpture and he had a woman who took care of his basic physical and spiritual wants without fooling with his head too much.
    Willard came to him in a dream, a dream that was composed of miniature silver and gold temples built but never used and waiting for a religion.
    Willard just walked right into the dream as if he had lived there forever with his long black legs and strangely-patterned body and of course his dynamic beak and his face that could almost change expressions.
    Willard walked over and took a good look at the miniature silver and gold temples. Willard liked them. They would be his family and his home.
    The next morning the artist took some papier-mâché and rags and paint and stuff and re-created Willard from his dream until Willard was standing there, separated and made real, ready to occupy his own life.

The history of the Logan brothers
    The Logan brothers had come from a simple, very large family. Besides the three brothers and their mother and father, there were also three sisters. The sisters did not bowl. They had another specialty which will be gone into later.
    Their father worked in a filling station as a mechanic. He was very good with cars. Transmissions were his specialty. People said that he had a Midas touch when it came to working with transmissions.
    He had such a way