A Game

There was never enough. He took on as many jobs as he could; grocery stores, a greeter at Wal-Mart, security guard, even tried washing cars; nothing ever panned out.

And, she would threaten to leave him when rent was due, or, an electric bill would come in the mail. At times he wished she would leave. Just make things easier.

But, she never did leave. She worked at a laundry mat out on 30 next to the IGA. All day long she’d wash clothes for people. Dirty clothes, stained clothes. She got paid by the load. And a little extra if she cleaned the toilets.

He would sit at home and wait on her. All day he’d be in that chair watching The Price Is Right, Let’s Make A Deal, afternoon news, then fall asleep with the remote dangling from his hand. He’d talk in his sleep about being a captain of industry, a famous actor, some politician. Then the old man would go to the cabinets to look for his bottle of whiskey which she would move and hide from him on a daily basis.

Come out, come out. Where ever you are?, he’d whisper as he looked everywhere for the bottle; looking under beds, the couch, cabinets, bathroom, everywhere. He’d find it eventually. Take a big sip. Then hide it from her.

It was like a game these two played. Always hiding the bottle. Always making the other miserable. But, they couldn’t live with anyone else. And, although they never said it, they loved one another.

Published by:

dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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