Wednesday February 1, 2006
	She's from Atlanta.
	"Those are great pictures," I say. "They're not pictures Norman, they're photographs.  My family history goes all the way back to the civil war.  I call that my sacred wall." "The gold frames are a nice touch," I say. "I imagine your family history is quite impressive," she says. She's serious. After a pause I say: "My grandfather smoked two bricks of marijuana a week for thirty years when he lived in Amsterdam." "You're such a joker," she says. I ain't joking. After another pause I say: "My mother was one of the first female bartenders in Michigan.  When customers got drunk and fell asleep at the bar she'd take the cash from their wallet and then she'd take their rings and wrist watch.  We were able to buy a two-speed blender from the Salvation Army and a Twister game and lots of other shit thanks to her." She says: "You're such a kidder." I ain't kidding. "How's your chops?" she says. "They're good," I say, "Best I ever had."  They aren't good.  They're greasy and thin and overcooked.     I'm in Tampa, Florida and I'm eating pork chops at the house of Audrey Krause.  Audrey is originally from Atlanta.  Audrey thinks I'm interesting. "How 'bout some cornbread Norman?" she says then dropping something square and cake like onto my plate. "Sure," I say. Before I moved to Florida I'd never even heard of cornbread. "This reminds me of my aunt Doris," I say while buttering the cornbread and while I'm buttering it she yanks it from my hand and butters it correctly for me. "Like this," she says. I say: "I see." "I'll bet you've got amazing aunts," she says then pouring potato chips onto my plate. I didn't want potato chips. Audrey Krause is a controlling imbecile and if she does one more thing for me I'll throw her pork chops and cornbread against her sacred wall of photographs.      "Tell me about them," she says. "Doris?"  I say. "Your aunts," she says. I say: "My aunt Marge who really wasn't my aunt Marge used to take me out on my birthday and buy me anything I wanted so long as the price didn't exceed one dollar." "That's sweet," she says. I say: "I wanted an expensive toy." "You should have told her that." I say: "I was the step nephew.  Even one dollar was pushing it." She says: "Do you visit her often." "She was heavy and slipped on a wet bathroom floor and went headfirst into the glass shower doors," I say. She says: "For real?" "Like a Rhinoceros on dope," I say. "You're not kidding are you?" she says. I say: "The fire department broke down the door and she was leaning over the tub with her butt pointed right at them." "She passed?"   "Uh huh," I say. "Aunt Doris fed me the same hamburger three days in a row while I did some brickwork for her." "Are you making this stuff up?" she says. "She was rich and I was the step nephew  so I got a reheated burger." "Why didn't you say something?" I say: "I was scared.  I was the step nephew.  Three day old reheated burgers is about what I deserved." "Has she passed also?" I say: "They found her in the trunk of a Mercury Grand Marquis holding onto an eight ounce can of Queen Royal Prunes." She says: "Bizarre." "The investigators figure she had just returned from the grocery store and unloaded the bags from her trunk and probably reached for the can of prunes and when she did she fell in pulling the trunk lid behind her.  She was stupid that way." "Stupid what way?" I say: "What kind of person would fall into a trunk and close it too?" "You're such a joker," she says then shaking potato chips from the bag and onto my plate. I ain't joking and I didn't want more potato chips. "How's your chops?" she says. "They're real good," I say. They ain't real good.  They're greasy and thin and overcooked. PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT