Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven

Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven

Sherman Alexie

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 074938669X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven

Sherman Alexie

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 074938669X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Ball games, cars, and romances: the icons and battlefields of modern life. In twenty-two linked stories, with infinite humour and pathos, Sherman Alexie explores some of the major issues of our time: the pull between the urban and the rural, the future and the past; the trials and tribulations of young adulthood; the comlex density of daily life. A modern mythmaker with a sharp eye for irony, Sherman Alexie's focus is an American Indian reservation, but his playground is the world. (19971029)

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what he has caused by his greed, changes himself into a duck, grabs the hot dog, and flies away. Meanwhile, a little white boy watches all this happen and leans over the water to see the Indian boy’s body wait at the bottom of the river. His mother refuses to believe him, though, and takes him away, kicking and screaming, into the end of the story.” Samuel opened his eyes and his friends cheered, gave him the twenty bucks and some extra change. “Some good old pocket money,” Samuel said and

world’s best xylophone player.” All the Indians were running; they were running. There was no fear, no pain. It was the pleasure of bare foot inside tennis shoe; it was the pleasure of tennis shoe on red dirt. That Skin with the long hair leaning against the pine tree, yes, that one, is in love with that other Skin sitting at the picnic table drinking a Pepsi. Neither has the words to describe this but they know how to dance, yes, they know how to dance. Can you hear the dreams crackling like

there before she hears the first note of the first goddamned song.” Simon jammed the car into his only gear, reverse, and roared down the highway. I wanted to hang my head out the window like a dog, let my braids flap like a tongue in the wind, but good manners prevented me from taking the liberty. Still, it was so tempting. Always was. “So, little Jimmy Sixteen-and-One-Half-Horses,” Simon asked me after a bit. “What did you do to make your wife take off this time?” “Well,” I said. “I told her

on the clock last Saturday night and the Springdale Chargers in possession of the ball, it looked like even the Wellpinit Redskins might have to call in the United States Cavalry to help them win the first game of this just-a-baby basketball season. But Junior Polatkin tipi-creeped the Chargers by stealing the inbounds pass and then stealing the game away when he hit a three-thousand-foot jumper at the buzzer. “I doubt we’ll be filing any charges against Junior for theft,” Tribal Chief of

Anyway, there we were, eating bad food and talking more stories. “Hey,” I asked my father. “If you knew who killed Jerry Vincent, would you tell the police?” “Don’t think so.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t think they care much anyway. Just make more trouble for Indians is all.” “Have you ever killed anyone?” I asked. My father took a big drink of his Diet Pepsi, ate a few fries, bit into his burger. In that order. Then he took another bigger drink of his Diet Pepsi. “Why do you want to

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