An old refrigerator sits in the corner. Broken plates on the floor. Towels  soaking up rainwater. Walls stripped of paint.  A couch’s cushions ripped, exposing brown and yellow stains.  He lies there. Wrapped in a blanket that has small logos of NFL teams sewn on it. His head rests on the armrest. A TV remote in hand. The television has a busted screen from where he kicked it years ago. He points the remote and hits it with his other hand. Slapping it and cursing.

Damn thing, he says. Son of a bitch. It worked yesterday. Piece of shit.

What are you talking about? asks Bobby. That thing hasn’t worked in years. You destroyed it. Kicked it with your foot a long time ago. When I was a kid.

That so? Dad asks. Well, I’ll be. He continues pointing the remote at the small TV. I’m losing my mind.

Yeah, the son laughs. Have been. The kid pulls out a folding metal chair leaning against the wall. He turns it around and sits in it backward. This place is a dump, he says. A true dump. Looks like a wrecking ball came through here. 

Yes. Thanks for pointing out the obvious, the old man sits up, still pointing the remote at the television. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a ten dollar bill. Here, take this and go get me a bottle. Couple of shots of Fireball.

Takes more than that.

It’s all I got till the first. 

Right. The kid takes the money and stuffs it in his wallet.

Go on. Go get me something.

I will.

Now, while I’m young.

You were never young, says Bobby. You’ve always been this frustrated old man who breaks everything, he laughs. Refrigerator. Broken. Couch. Broken. Plates. Broken. Your marriage. Broken.

That’s not true.

Well. Where is she?

She went out to get eggs.

She’s been gone awhile, dad.

She’ll be back. He continues pointing the remote. Hitting it harder and harder. Mumbling and swearing. The boy pulls out the ten spot and examines it. He notices a tear.

Got any tape?

No. I don’t think so.

This is torn up too. You can’t have anything, can you? Without it in some kind of disrepair. 

They’ll take it.

Right. Whiskey. You want whiskey.  Some kind of magic potion.

Just go get it.

Bobby exits the room, and the outside light goes dark.  A voice is heard. The old man’s voice. Yelling at the TV. Son of a bitch. Everything is broken.