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Big Goof: A Fable

Big Goof yawned widely, nearly locking his jaws as he shook off the night’s tremors. He rolled over, trying to stir his bones. The night chill had seeped up his arms and down his legs. He groaned as he pushed against the ground, lifting his mass from the damp ground. He shook his limbs as he stood, trying to combat the chill. His breath fogged in the cold air as he exhaled. He came eventually to know that he must’ve dozed off for a few dozen years. He had awoken with matted fur and sore bones, and he remembered the last time that had happened, he’d slept from the new moon to the half. He thought he was an eagle for some time as he dozed, then a bear, and much later, an otter. No, perhaps a seal or a salmon or the wind. Yes, he was the wind for some while over the moons, wandering voraciously over the land but somehow always winding up where it began to blow. .

The FedUp ExPress Guy

Fill Wantless didn’t want much. He just wanted a little bit. A little bit of love, a little bit of respect, a little bit of money and a little bit of life. He was apparently unaware that all these things come from within, not without, but Wantless was constantly looking to the world askance, unaware that what he thought of himself, no one else did. Some disliked him for his loud guffaw amidst a high school basketball game while others endured his long, tedious and nearly pointless stories of his Norwegian ancestors. A few loved him deeply, madly blah blah blah, truly, but never once let him know.

Gobshite of Sa'an

“Those who no longer ask the questions are the truly enlightened.” The Sa’an spouted the saying in his sleep – over and over and over again until he awoke those of us who weren’t too besotted and still somewhat conscious. Rollo kicked the Sa’an to shut him up but he continued babbling the inane words over and over. Rollo shook his shoulders, trying to awake the sleeping Sa’an. The saint snored between words, struck in some dungeon of his mind where nothing existed beyond the prison bars of his dreams. Rollo cursed and spat on the pavement. He considered gagging his drunk friend to stop his words but decided to move far enough away that the mumbled worlds sounded like a gurgling stream. Rollo slept fitfully nonetheless and even as he drifted into sleep, the Sa’an’s words seared into his mind. “What questions? He wondered. “Why the hell l would I want to be enlightened? What time is it?" Dawn yawned to life.

Writing fables, waiting tables

The wizard behind the screen writes of things imagined, memories conflated, loves unrequited and efforts made.

Philip L. Watness invites readers to peruse his fiction. He hopes to impart his humor through his writing.

Watness retired in May 2024 after three decades of being a small town community journalist.

Among his future novels is, “The FedUp ExPress Guy,” a pseudobiography about a hapless reporter who gets fired, has to drive truck for the Feckless Delivery Co., and then returns to a much-changed journalism environment 7 years after being fired.

It’s a hoot. Trust me.

Gobshite of Sa’an is Watness’ take on spirituality, gurus, religion, commerce, and reality.

Whatnews.Ink supplements his limited income. He asks that readers subscribe to his various products.

Please support me as well as you can. I don’t have much financial security despite having exquisite aspirations.

Here are many books in my head which I hope to get on paper. Please support me by subscribing to my fiction stories. Every dollar will encourage me to write more

Big Goof, a fable
Fed-Up Ex-Press Guy
Gobshite of Sa’an
Quarter Past Warhol
Paper Trail, Paper Tiger
The (Not) Very Helpful Self-Help Book
The Peg and I
Pixilated
Qiyamah

Disappointing jobs

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