Xmas 2010

Xmas 2010. Frank felt sad. No point to it. Frank would like
to hang himself with a piece of Wall Mart silver tensile the kind
you hang on a tree. “Taco Bell, may have your order, please?”
“2 cheese burritos,” Frank ordered taking in the
lighted trees and getting caught in the spray of Xmas music.
Frank’s divorce had hit him similar to a 1,000 cuts from rust
tinged razor blades. It left Frank feeling he didn’t belong
anywhere in life. It was as if he was pushed from his mother’s
bloody spread legs in to nothing. He’d stare up the clear, blue sky
the air motionless, and Frank imagined himself taking both hands,
ripping the blue open, and climbing, right leg first, in to
the white of nothingness. Frank’s wife had been a great fuck, and
he’d married her after a night of drinking and bar hopping. The
next morning he found himself in bed with a strange woman. 3 weeks
later they were married in a proper ceremony the Sun Down Inn off
the main highway. Now Frank was living in the Hiawatha Motel. She’d
invited him for Xmas. He tossed it around; decided he’d go even
though he knew it was the wrong to do. Pulling up to a ranch style
house she opened the door. He handed her a gift wrapped bottle of
cheap bourbon. He met her boy friend the Stockbroker. At dinner
they made small talk. Frank pushed his food around on the
plate “So, what field are you in,” the Stockbroker said a smile
breaking the refrigerator iced air?” Frank told him he was in
freight management, thinking to himself this is madness. The
Stockbroker looked up from his beer and smirked “you people,” this
and “you people that,” inching his middle finger against his nose.
The fucker was smirking at him. Fuck this guy, Frank thought. He
pushed away from the dinner table knocking over the chair. “God
Damn you Frank. This is just like you. Someone does something nice
for you and you shit in their face,” his ex screamed at
Frank. He stood on the front lawn a crinkled beer can in his hand.
Frank sat outside her house drinking, the Xmas tree blinking
through the front window. The stockbrokers’ car was still there.
They were shaking up. Opening the trunk and dragging out a chain,
Frank’s anger grew. He backed the car up crashing through the
living room window and hauled the Xmas tree down the street in a
shower of sparks. Yelling, “Merry Xmas fuckheads” Frank
laughed and yell..

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One thought on “Xmas 2010

  1. Hutch says:

    I guess the stockbroker listened to Rush Limbaugh at work.

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