… when he doubled over she called him a
doofey fake vegetarian unemployed jack ass.
He smiled. “What’s a jake ass,” he thought?
Most nights after cleaning the kitchen he joined in the t.v. room even though he hated that western channel.
He usually curled up with a book by favorite author Louis L’amor.
One night she wanted popcorn.
He took great pride in his popcorn making skills but on that one particular night they had run out of margarine.
Why she didn’t like butter on her popcorn he didn’t know.
He loved buttered popcorn! Maybe that was the reason?
She insisted on having popcorn that night even though they had no margarine.
“The car’s got plenty of gas,” she said, “And I need some quiet time while you’re gone.’’
He drove eight miles to the Piggly Wiggly but it was closed for the annual inventory. So he drove around the corner to Charley’s Convenience Store but it must have burned down. The walls were charred black and the roof was missing.
So there was no place he could get margarine.
“I’ll be damed if I’ll drive another ten miles to Plank City for a tub of Parkay,” he said out loud.
“She’ll just have to eat her goddamned popcorn with butter tonight,” he thought.
He wondered if she’d know the difference. But he knew better.
By the time he got back she had gone to bed.
Since the next day was Saturday he figured he’d leave early for his appointment at that quickly loan place next to the Piggly Wiggly.
He knew he’d have hell to pay in the morning if he didn’t pick up a pound of butter just in case … since she preferred butter on her toast.