This morning he heard his mother had died. He went to a burger joint and tried to eat to death. But no one could make a burger like his mom.
Twisters
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Every spy movie is about the sex lives of spies. She said this at the height of her sincerity. I heaved out a disgusted sounding “Oh yeah?”
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She started to weep. This was the thing that happened when the thing turned into a thing. She took out a frozen cake. This was also a thing.
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Then the rain started to enter the house, and she said, I thought you promised to fix the roof, and I said, When’s the last time we had sex?
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I got out of my car and grabbed a hockey stick from the back seat. I walked to the car in front of me. With menace. Let’s play, I suggested.
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I had no lessons to teach her. She’d made that clear to me. I paid the bill and stood. Shall we? I asked. But she hadn’t finished her drink.
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Dreams of a lake, of throwing baseballs in the fading light of evening, of love and loss. He dreams of sweet things. Of things he never had.
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He orders a double cheeseburger and notes the annoyingly judgemental look on the beefy waiter and says, At least I have a speedy metabolism.
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He laughs until the act of breathing becomes implausible. He says, Come on that was hilarious. And then someone says, I called an ambulance.
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We sold our possessions. We vacated the house room by room, a past sold off to purchase a future. We were hopeful, but no longer house proud.
