I
walk around the corner and there he is, covered in blood up to his elbows. As I
scan the room I start feeling very overwhelmed, is that a ribcage? What the hell
is going on in here? I look at him he has a smile on his face that I haven’t seen
in years, and then I hear a chuck of meat hit the bottom of a bucket. I need to
sit down then I hear the music playing in the background, how could I have
missed that? As I sit and listen it starts getting loader and loader, of course
he would be listening to country music. Is this really my life?
I
take a deep breath; I smell a mixture of iron and decaying flesh. Thank god I
have a brand new bottle of bleach, because I’m going to have to bleach
everything. I don’t want anything to do with this, but I have already sat down.
So I bury my disgust of this whole situation and tell myself I need to get over
this. I look back at him and smile.
“So did any of the other guys get a deer?”
Fine vignette: we get a description of the scene, we get your thoughts and feelings, we get a glimpse of your marriage dynamic, we get the ironic comment in the close. We even hear about your clean-up plans!
ReplyDeleteNice piece--risky for the weak of stomach, I suppose!