Pages

Saturday, July 25, 2015

The Curmudgeon

He is accustomed to retrieving the newspaper at precisely six thirty.

It isn't there.

He fumes. He rants incoherently and jerks and twitches. After about a minute he begins to froth at the mouth.

One minute after that he starts to bark and growl and gnaw at his arm. At three minutes he dumps a pot of hot coffee on his head. At four minutes he yells so loudly that his teeth fly out and stick in the wall and his wig pops off and lands on the cat.

At five minutes he bangs his head repeatedly on the door and stomps on the floor. At six minutes he slaps himself in the face and wrenches his arm so hard that he dislocates his shoulder. At seven minutes he attempts to swallow a boot.

At eight minutes he cuts his nose off. At nine minutes he drives a sharpened number two pencil into each ear. At ten minutes he gouges out his eyes with a spoon.

At eleven minutes he takes a steak knife and begins to peel his skin off.

At six forty-two his brother-in-law walks from the bathroom with the newspaper tucked under his arm.