Chapter 1
Right on top of me like a laser printing, I am being printed over and over and the whole thing is a thin-as-ice joke. The jesters told me the story and then left the scene. Once upon a time, there would have been nothing but hassle and now I am braver than most. I have lived through the ghosts and the puddles and I am muddling through.
Tell me your thoughts.
Pa?”
“I want to know,”
“That you can’t Mr. Fidel, and fie on you and making such improper suggestions may lead you somewhat astray,” said his wife and the woman of the house. She was having a good time her lover would see to her needs all she had to do was behave properly in front of everybody and she would be seen as a promise like a sigh.
She had been on it for a number of years and her yearning was uppermost in her head. He loved her and he was a proper gentleman.
Fidel could get lost he was not a man anymore and he had deserted the bank and all the details we did between ourselves and Zeks were growing confident. Each day and hourly she grew in confidence and did not betray that she was waiting as a beneficiary what to do.
So we might as well pack and leave. The yearning was eventually to get so much and the further she got from the reality the more debris she got into.
He reddened and got lost again in his thoughts he said he was so bored he could kill himself. I told him not to, as it may interfere with the rug.
He said nothing and began to drink his whiskey and when it was half empty he braved another remark.
“I can’t feel anything I can’t feel for anybody or even the grandkids I can’t feel anymore,”
“It’s the drink Pa.”
“Their eyes are green and mine is not.”
“Go and fuck your eyes,” said his wife.
I believe there is a sanctity of the dead their names and they should be remembered as they wished to be remembered.
“It is a fitting testimony that is all.”
“I have done both my parent's seats and I am sitting on them daily to remember them by,”
“You see a fitting thing that,”
“Sweetheart why do such a thing we are now deceased.”
“I still think about you all.”
“We both died and the game was up, The family scattered into ashes and the sands of time have made us erupt into beasts.”
There was nothing to say I did not want to. I just am sad.
People stare at me as if the last time I was shagged was by a woman called a woman. I do not say anything but everyone in the neighborhood has a particular friend and I am the only one who did not get flowers from the florist.
“A huge one from the florist.”
“Flowers do not come any better,”
“A better place,”
They both joined and then hell broke loose nobody is speaking to me as if I have grown into a shadow and left to rot. I am left alone and everyone watches with cruel eyes at me.
What dies?
What does it matter to me if the very shrugs and all that have done silenced and untold harm? Why does it matter if they are not speaking to me?
But it does.
No one gossips with me anymore. How did it lose me the anger the issues and the tissue of lies when the tissues come out? I let it all out the whole thing is nervy and tense and the women look as if their husbands help them out it is because they are women and need the husband, the brother the beastly shag, or anyone.
Am I losing it?
Sure it must be all nothing a cuckoo in the nest.
