he was having breakfast with his
parents at their home
hed come cross country to visit
FeChristssake Dad The obituaries Why arya reading the obituaries
his father folded down the top half of paper so he could glare
in his son with some contempt Cuz, boy, I ain’t in ‘em.
boy
son
they grated on him neither his father or his mother
ever called him Joe it was always Son,
this is your father calling Son, this is
your mother calling
asif he wouldnt recognise their voices they liked badgering him
Joe My name is Joe
I know who you are.
I wasnt sure I thought you might think my name was
Son Youre my fatheryoure my mother Lookin in the mirror I see a fullgrown man
looking back at me When you call me son it
makes me think you dont appreciate that Im a man
Of course we do.
You do
We do.
My names Joe
Yes, son, it is.
they exasperated him
they preferred to
meet him as their son rather than a man an adult hows that work
hed be fucked if his kids grown
didnt know who he wasthe man he was the
men and women they were
they were raised
they were adults
theyd contend with their
relationships as men and women not as
DadDaddy not son or daughter he wouldnt hide behind being their father and
fuck if they thought they could hide behind being his children should they try to invoke a kind of relief a
Klingon cloaking devise
his parents wouldnt know what
Klingons were
they just manifested a disregard
of he as a man a contemporary dare say a fucking equal
which was ridiculous his father was twentyhis mother eighteen
years old when he was born for all
intents and purposes they were of the same generation albeit extreme edges of that generation he certainly had as much in common with them as
he he hadhad instilled in his children
although he didnt share his
childrens technology their abbreviations acronyms
You got something to say to me
dont LOL me dont LMAO me Say what the
fuck you mean Throw that shit at me Im
content to let it dribble and slide down the wallnot give a damn what youre trying
to communicate
Save that drivel for your
contemporaries
Obits have pictures now Yawant your picture on your obit when you
diekick the bucket as youse say
So you do look.
Look You hand me the paper folded over theres obits front and back I get it The stories
But their stories would have been more compelling had they shared them
with me rather than being secondhand wellintended news Prattling
Their stories have ended and only they could do their lives justice Mebbe people ought to write their own obits
before they croak Tell their liestheir
truths Id rather hear it from the horsesthe
whoresthe bastards mouth than commemorated by hoodwinked children or relatives
Youre awful
Yes Awfully honest
The truth with both barrels The
terrible trouble with a scattergun is that
it creates an ugly mess And people
prefer tidy corpses still fresh Not
rotting corrupted And that said Have you written your obituaries yet
his parents noticeably went pale
Its inevitable deaths inevitable Im only saying that the last word on your lives ought to be your words OtherwiseI guarantee theyll be mine because youll have left them to me My siblingstheyre younger they havent the relationship weve had and theyll drop that responsibility in my lap Ive no doubt
Im simply saying what will be
true
Makes complete sense to me
Either of you care to say
otherwise
1843, Sunday, 14 4.
19
1554, Twosday, 16 4.
19
