There’s a Jack for every Jenny but holy
smokes! a lot of beer & desperation must
have gone into making those three
boys of hers & now Grandpa is
stuck with supporting these indolent
spawn of his leathery, snaggle-toothed
daughter who can’t work because of
“the accident,” though whatever that was
doesn’t stop her from riding in the
bitch seat behind her generic walrus-
moustached loser of a boyfriend to
Bike Week in Sturgis, among
other things.
Somehow the house is kept up & for
all I know ol’ Snaggle Tooth helps, doing
the occasional load of laundry & so
forth, which is the least she can do because
cigarettes are expensive & she’s not the one
paying for them. Her sons are another
matter, the oldest bringing his
friends in from his job as “head cook” at
some greasy spoon to talk loudly &
run their engines across the street
outside my bedroom window at one
in the bleepin’ a.m.
Ah, but she’s really proud of that one, him
being “head cook” and all, though for all
that he’s still sponging off Granddad &
making a hulking nuisance of himself. She’ll
try talking to him, though, sorry about all
that, but he’s almost 20 & you cain’t tell ‘em
anything when they’re that age. Besides,
he’s doin’ really good for himself & I don’ t
mean to piss you off or anything but it
ain’t like you’re workin’, so why’re you
so concerned? Me, I cain’t hear ‘em at
all, I sleep like a log, so, you know, I’ll
talk to him, though…
And to think that for this her old man served
two tours in ‘Nam, and damned if he didn’t
get that look in his eyes when he told me
about it as if he would break down right
there. Yep, he saw the Elephant, the blood
shells & screaming & all for this, this? hell,
I dunno, maybe this drama keeps him going
being more than he could hope for
with him being too old to work (except in
the yard, where he looks as if he’ll keel
over any second while his worthless
grandsons skateboard or play
videogames indoors), his wife long
since dead. He’s got two retirement
checks coming in plus Social Security
& with the mortgage long since paid
off he might as well spend it on
something.
It could be worse, I tell myself, in a futile
prophylactic gesture against you
telling me the same as we
compete for the prize.
From the forthcoming collection Nymphomagic Electroshock and Other Middle-Aged Complaints.
Copyright © 2006, 2019 by Lawrence Roy Aiken.
smokes! a lot of beer & desperation must
have gone into making those three
boys of hers & now Grandpa is
stuck with supporting these indolent
spawn of his leathery, snaggle-toothed
daughter who can’t work because of
“the accident,” though whatever that was
doesn’t stop her from riding in the
bitch seat behind her generic walrus-
moustached loser of a boyfriend to
Bike Week in Sturgis, among
other things.
Somehow the house is kept up & for
all I know ol’ Snaggle Tooth helps, doing
the occasional load of laundry & so
forth, which is the least she can do because
cigarettes are expensive & she’s not the one
paying for them. Her sons are another
matter, the oldest bringing his
friends in from his job as “head cook” at
some greasy spoon to talk loudly &
run their engines across the street
outside my bedroom window at one
in the bleepin’ a.m.
Ah, but she’s really proud of that one, him
being “head cook” and all, though for all
that he’s still sponging off Granddad &
making a hulking nuisance of himself. She’ll
try talking to him, though, sorry about all
that, but he’s almost 20 & you cain’t tell ‘em
anything when they’re that age. Besides,
he’s doin’ really good for himself & I don’ t
mean to piss you off or anything but it
ain’t like you’re workin’, so why’re you
so concerned? Me, I cain’t hear ‘em at
all, I sleep like a log, so, you know, I’ll
talk to him, though…
And to think that for this her old man served
two tours in ‘Nam, and damned if he didn’t
get that look in his eyes when he told me
about it as if he would break down right
there. Yep, he saw the Elephant, the blood
shells & screaming & all for this, this? hell,
I dunno, maybe this drama keeps him going
being more than he could hope for
with him being too old to work (except in
the yard, where he looks as if he’ll keel
over any second while his worthless
grandsons skateboard or play
videogames indoors), his wife long
since dead. He’s got two retirement
checks coming in plus Social Security
& with the mortgage long since paid
off he might as well spend it on
something.
It could be worse, I tell myself, in a futile
prophylactic gesture against you
telling me the same as we
compete for the prize.
From the forthcoming collection Nymphomagic Electroshock and Other Middle-Aged Complaints.
Copyright © 2006, 2019 by Lawrence Roy Aiken.
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