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24 November 2007
Posted in
Articles -
Internet
The old man sat in the cab of his son's beat up blue Ford pickup, gazing longingly out the window at something which no one else could see, toward a horizon hidden by a roadside gas station. The pumps in front were large and red and boasted rounded tops that bore the image of a white winged horse.
He could see his son inside, paying for the gas and for the cream soda and Moon Pie the old man had requested. The attendant was babbling about something behind the counter, he could see, an idiot teenager in a white cap that was two sizes too big for him and which pushed down the tops of his ears so that he looked like a kid playing dress up. He wished the kid would shut up so he could get back on the road with his son.
His head was starting to hurt again and the scent of oranges wafted through the open window of the cab, although there were no oranges around that he could see. He knew it was coming, could almost smell it the way he could smell those oranges. It had happened to him every day for the past month. Some vision, some...almost memory...would play around in his mind until he thought he would go mad with it, and then his headache would pop like a balloon and hewould take a nap, awake feeling a bit refreshed.
And then the vision would come to fruition just as he pictured it. For some reason, the maddening scent of oranges always preceded these images. Today, though, he had a feeling he would not be taking a nap. He just wanted to drive. Put as many miles as possible between himself and this godforsaken town. He had awoken with a feeling of....bad.
A brand new store has just opened in New York City that sells Husbands.
I closed the lid of the washer and sat down to page through Reader’s Digest. It was the only magazine my mother-in-law would read and it beat the hell out of talking to her. Pretending I didn’t hear the crystal bell she was ringing, I honed in on an article entitled “How To Talk To Your Relatives.” Maybe it could help, I lied to myself.