“Howard, come here,” Margarette said.

The dog came over.

“Now, you go get my paper, and I’ll give you your food.”

The Doberman obeyed. He had a skin disease that gave him dandruff, and made him irritable.

“Alan, are you awake yet?”

“I’m coming dear.”

“Well, hurry up! Our son will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Honey, he’s always an hour late. That boy can’t keep proper time. He’s on Bruno time.”

“Don’t break him down. That’s why he hasn’t made any grandchildren—no self-esteem.”

Alan set the table. He plugged in the griddle, and poured-out the batter. Then he fried the eggs.

“I want the neighbor girl to wash our cars, while I trim the roses. Bruno is used to the big city, and I want to make an impression.”

“Honey, he’s your son. He’s seen the worst parts of you, and this house.”

“What are you saying!? Are you saying ‘no’ to me?”

“No dear.”

The neighbor girl came over. She was wearing short shorts and a tiny top, with her swimsuit underneath. Alan leered from the kitchen sink.

“What are you looking at?” Margarette asked.


“Good. Now I will read my romance novel until my son gets here.” She lounged in her chair.

“Why do you get to read that stuff, and I can’t look at the neighbor girl?”

“Because words never hurt anybody, but the lust of the eyes, is the root of all evil.”

Howard Barked.

“That’s our son,” Margarette said.

Bruno got out of his black BMW. He was dressed in a silver 3-piece suit.

“Courtney, is that you?”

“Oh—hi Bruno.”

“You’ve filled out nicely.”

“Thanks—and you have too.” She was looking at his paunch.

“Oh—this. I have a gym membership to get rid of this.”

Bruno almost walked inside, but Howard was standing guard, and barked, showing his teeth, like steak knives.

“Mom—call off your dog!”

“Oh—Howard wouldn’t hurt anybody—would you dear?” She patted his head and forced some kibble down his throat. “Your father has made breakfast and has just turned on the news.”

Bruno walked inside. “Hi, pop!”

“Hello, son.”

“Anything in the news?”

“Just war, inflation, and protest. The same old stuff. We’re losing our freedoms.”

“Most people don’t exercise them.”

“Speaking of which, are you going to start hitting the gym?”

“Of course, dad, but those in glass houses, shouldn’t throw stones.”

“You boys are both fat—it’s just the way that I like you—now, eat breakfast,” Margarette said.

To be continued…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s