Yesterday, I
woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines
on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. The little fat man in charge of
North Korea is named Kim Jong-un. And make no mistake. He’s a complete
psychopathic son of a bitch. Anyway, this twisted dwarf is throwing his support
toward Palestine—which shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Diabolical
assholes always gravitate toward evil. My final analysis? Kim Jong-un can go
take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. Fuck him and fuck the horse he rode in
on.
I called my
mother using Facebook Messenger.
I said, “How
are things in Texas?”
She said, “Not
so good.”
“Why? What’s
the matter?”
“Your
Mexican stepfather might be at death’s door.”
“Holy crap.
Is he all right?”
“Of course
he’s not all right. I already told you that the Grim Reaper is coming for him.”
“Well, how
do you know?”
She shrugged
and took a sip of water. “Last night, he was so exhausted that he couldn’t hold
his head up. I had to drag him to his bed. Then I made him toast and tea. He
said, ‘Honey, I think the end is coming soon.’ After that, he rolled over and
went to sleep.”
I smiled at
her. “He isn’t dying. He’s simply worn out. It happens to the best of us.”
She wagged
her finger in my face. “Son, the man is 85 years old. If he says he’s dying,
then he’s dying. Trust me on this.”
“But his
mother lived until she was a hundred years old. Plus his mind is still as sharp
as a tack.”
“That’s
true. Yet his mother never had bypass surgery.” She paused for dramatic effect.
“The years have a way of creeping up on you, Jack. They pass by so quickly.”
I let out a
heavy sigh. “Try not to worry. If he dies, I’ll be on the next plane. Then me
and my boys will do our best to support you emotionally and financially.”
“What is
your heart telling you?”
“Honestly, I’d
love to come back to America as soon as possible. However, I think it would be
better to let Rice-Boy finish high school before returning. Plus I’d be able put some scratch in the bank. But I’m not going to let you sit in Texas
alone.”
She nodded. “Anyway,
his ex-wife and his son are coming to visit next week just to be safe. They
want to say one final adios before he embarks on his journey.”
“Well, that
certainly makes sense. However, I feel in my gut that there is still some tread
left on his tire. I wouldn’t bury the old guy just yet. But what do I know?”
Later that
morning, I caught the bus to school. My day at work went OK. I’m currently
reading a Ray Bradbury story with my middle schoolers. It’s a tale that’s
supposed to serve as a metaphor describing the Cold War. Bradbury has been dead
a long time, and the Cold War is over. Things change at the speed of light.
I eventually
got home at 6 p.m. I walked across the street and bought donuts and duct tape.
Then it was time to clean two loads of laundry. What I really wanted to do was
watch porno, but I was simply too busy. Perhaps I’ll be able to find the time
tonight. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
(Did you like this post? Then read my novel for free. Click here.)
(Give my message board a try.)
ReplyDeleteTexas Trilogy: Bosque County Romance Lyrics
Mary Martin was a schoolgirl
Just seventeen or so
When she married Billy Archer
About fourteen years ago
Not even out of high school
Folks said it wouldn't last
But when you grow up in the country
You grow up mighty fast
They married in a hurry
In March before school was out
Folks said that she was pregnant
"Just wait and you'll find out"
It came about that winter
One gray November morn
The first of many more to come
A baby boy was born
And cattle is their game
And Archer is the name
They give to the acres that they own
If the Brazos don't run dry
And the newborn calves, they don't die
Another year from Mary will have flown
Another year from Mary will have flown
Now Billy kept what cattle
His daddy could afford
As he went bouncing across the cactus
In a 1950 Ford
But the cows were sick and skinny
And the weeds was all that grew
But Billy kept the place alive
The only thing he knew
And Mary cooked the supper
And Mary scrubbed the clothes
And Mary busted horses
And she blew the baby's nose
And Mary and a shotgun
Kept the rattlesnakes away
How she kept on smiling
No one could ever say
And cattle is their game
And Archer is the name
They give to the acres that they own
If the Brazos don't run dry
And the newborn calves, they don't die
Another year from Mary will have flown
Another year from Mary will have flown
Now the drought of '57
Was a curse upon the land
No one in Bosque county
Could give old Bill a helping hand
The ground was cracked and broken
And the truck was out of gas
And cows can't feed on prickly pear
Instead of growing grass
Well, the weather got the water
And a snake bite took a child
And a fire in the old barn
Took the hay that Bill had piled
The mortgage got the money
And the screw worm got the cows
The years have come for Mary
She's waiting for them now
And cattle is their game
And Archer is the name
They give to the acres that they own
If the Brazos don't run dry
And the newborn calves, they don't die
Another year from Mary will have flown
Another year from Mary will have flown
Nice poem but now I think I'll just go jump off a cliff after reading it. Was it written by Debbie Downer?
DeleteLoved it. Good stuff.
DeleteBy the way, those are lyrics from a hillbilly song by Lyle Lovett. He's a weird looking guy who once married a supermodel. I think.
DeleteI'd lay off the porn....
ReplyDeleteMy gut tells me Judgment Day is right around the corner.
It's looking that way.
Delete