My Three Sons. Short story by g emil reutter. November.The Write Launch.

She was proud of her boys. They worked every day, went to confession and church every week. Her boys were good boys, neighbors just didn’t understand them. Not everyone can lead a pure life, but she had always believed church was for sinners and the righteous were normally the most sinful of all. Her sons were well known, there wasn’t a bar within five miles of the town that would let them in. It wasn’t that they were brawlers, it was that they were old drunks who always said the wrong thing, believed getting loud made them tough. It simply made them annoying. Billy, the oldest led the others astray. He lost his truck and license to five DUI’s, rode a bike around town. He told his mom it was to lower his sugar, fact was it was the only way for him to get around. Jacob and Danny did a few stints in state prison for burglaries, Billy only made county jail for his DUI’s, and he never was caught for anything else. Daniele Roberts, all of eighty-eight years old would brag to neighbors how well her boys were doing while she took care of the garden in front of her house. The boys all stayed at the house, slept in their bedrooms on forty-year-old beds. These three brothers never left this house, except for jail time and not one of them looked like the other. 
So these three small timers . . .

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