He slit his throat. The old man no longer saw the beauty in life; youth had faded. There was blood all over the garage; a real mess left for someone to clean up. A wife, his son, sat in the living room watching Good Morning America, sipping on coffee, eating pastry he’d bought the night before; cherry turnovers. They didn’t hear any screams or yells. It was done in silence; like a Japanese warrior. A neck dangling. A butcher knife dropped to the concrete floor amongst oil and anti-freeze. Some say he killed himself. Others said it was America that did it to him.
A loss of a job. Financial ruin. Your wife’s cheating with the paper boy. The killing of the middle class. Walmart has become the temple. We flock there on Saturdays to buy goods and support the economy of foreign lands complete with self checkout; cut out the middle man. Sales, sales, sales, everything must go. It’s what we thrived on until there was nothing left; goodbye dollars, so long credit, adios to lay away. These are the things that killed him.
Mom had a ham in the oven she was preparing for Easter Sunday. The day Christ rose from the dead. Families used to believe that story. They believed salvation was possible. Not anymore. We put our faith in politics, symbols, flags, signs, catchy sayings and commercials. Soon, we’ll all have a chip in our hands, We’ll be traced where ever we go; whatever we think. All done so the rich can get richer and the poor stay poor. Maybe the old man knew this. Maybe that’s why he ended it next to a lawnmower and Glad trash bags.
He did it. And, no one noticed till days later. The death of an American male. Coming to a suburb near you.