Goodbye Billy Blackstaff

Image copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Image copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Yesterday we buried old Billy Blackstaff at the far end of the village graveyard. That was a place he often frequented, sitting on an ancient tombstone, sucking on his old briar pipe, contemplating life, contemplating death.

We gave him a right royal send off – Martha opened up the front room, lit the lamps, brought in a barrel of the best, labored the tables with home made jellied eyeballs, pressed duck, soused pigs head, slink veal, and calves foot jelly.

We caroused up to midnight – he deserved a proper sendoff, did Billy.

I was starving by the time I got home.


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ weekly 100 word challenge found here.

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21 Responses to Goodbye Billy Blackstaff

  1. Good old Billy. They knew him well. No wonder men had gout in those days. Good writing, Patrick. It sounded Dicksonian or the like. 😀 — Suzanne

  2. I can see why he was hungry. A few odd foods being served in this tale.
    But, Billy had a nice send off. Nicely done …
    Isadora 😎

  3. Nothin’ wrong with havin’ a little too much souse, although I tend to bring my own iron when it comes to pressed duck. The oil tends to do havoc with me gizzards.
    What did you dine on when ye got home, laddie?


  4. No reason to starve with such abundance…

  5. Dear Patrick,

    I can see why he’d be starving after such ‘delicacies.’ Gak. I enjoyed the story, though.



  6. rgayer55 says:

    My, aren’t you a picky eater? One man’s feast is another’s famine, I suppose.

  7. My stomach was turning as I read the eyeball bit and then your last line made me laugh!

  8. Couldn’t you have managed just one little eyeball? Just to be polite? Interesting use of ‘labored’.

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