“Imagine taking your seat for a long flight with your favorite book. But the guy sitting next to you starts telling a story. A minute later, you’ve closed the book. You ask to hear more. In an hour, you’ve laughed, sighed, gasped, held back a tear, then said to hell with it and let it fall. You don’t want this flight to ever end. Joseph Sutton is the guy talking, and he’s also your pilot.”

—Joe Quirk, author of The Ultimate Rush and Exult

Book Description

The Immortal Mouth and Other Stories is a collection of 30 short stories dealing with classic American themes—fathers and sons, hitting the road, roller-coaster relationships, sports, growing up, and aging. These stories deal with humanity’s goodness and wickedness, loyalty and betrayal, rage and exultation, triumph and defeat.

“The Burglar” — a short-short story from the collection

A noise awoke the man at 3:55 a.m. Propping his head up, he listened with the intensity of a frightened deer, because twice in the past year his home had been burglarized.

Faint sounds emanated from the vicinity of his three-year-old son’s bedroom, or from the living room further down the hall. Sitting up in bed, he decided not to disturb his wife. He often envied how soundly she slept, but tonight he felt lucky he was such a light sleeper.

Slowly, quietly, he moved toward the bedroom closet. With his pulse pounding loudly in his ears, he stood on his toes and stretched his arm to the top shelf for his newly acquired gun. The thought of a burglar violating his home for a third time made him furious. This thief’s not getting away this time, he assured himself.

He inched toward his bedroom door, cringing whenever the floor creaked beneath his feet. Putting his ear to the door, he heard footsteps in the hall. Taking a deep breath, he swung his bedroom door open and fired three rapid shots at heart level.

“Mommy, Poppy!” his son shrieked.

The gun dropped from his hand as he stumbled down the long dark hall.  He snatched his son off the floor and held him tightly, his voice thundering with guilt, “Why wasn’t I more careful?  Why didn’t I shout a warning?  Oh, God, please don’t take my son away from—”

“Poppy,” the boy shook, “gun make too much noise.”

The man wept with relief.