You got to love the girl’s creativity – they don’t get it from me. Today I heard my girl’s singing the funniest poem.
I have four girls and a beautiful wife. There’s me Heather, Anna, Charlotte, Christie and my wife Daisy. My wife and I have been married twenty years and we’ve had our ups and downs in this house, but we’ve always stuck together and been there for one another no matter what. And what I value most about my wife is her loyalty and her trustworthiness. The two girls Heather and Anna, I am not so sure about and I always tell them. I always say to them two:
Listen, girls, don’t be like the other two – don’t end up like Charlotte and Christie.
The reason I say that is because Charlotte and Christie cannot be trusted. Running their mouths off at that school and telling their friends – daddy does this, mummy does that. I don’t want Heather and Anna to be like that. So, I give them fair warning because when them two flew the coop, I knew that I hadn’t done enough. We failed there as parents Daisy and me.
Too soft. Too lenient. Let them watch whatever the hell they wanted on the TV. Let them make friends at the school. Let them ask us questions about what “other” families do and have them questioning whether we were good parents or not. So, that’s why I always tell Heather and Anna not to end up like them too. Be good girls. Keep your mouths shut. Don’t ask questions. Listen and love your parents.
They’re all good kids really put some things need fixing and me and Daisy are the type to do the fixing. Anyway; all the girls have either been told or shown. Simple rules of the family. Don’t run your mouths off, what happens in the house, stays in the house, respect your parents.
And just today. Like all I ever said fell on deaf ears. I’m sitting there having a beer in the living room and I hear Heather and Anna on the front steps. They’re clapping hands and singing songs so the whole neighbourhood could hear. I sneak up a little close and try and hear the words to the song.
My god they’re clever girls but it’s time for Daisy and me to get to fixing. Here’s what I heard:
Daddy daddy always said we live under his roof so follow his rules,
Keep your mouth closed and don’t say nothing to the schools,
Charlotte and Christie, they talked too damned much,
Telling all their friends about such and such,
And now nobody knows our sister's whereabouts,
But daddy has told us, they’re buried deep under the house,
So, don’t say a word and do what daddy said,
Because we know that Charlotte and Christie ended up dead.
DINNER FOR TWO It was a pleasing ritual for Vivienne to cook a meal for her love Marco; especially during one of their most romantic nights of the year. Another monthly anniversary. Vivienne would light a candle, put the player on and play some soft Sade. She would stare into each of Marco’s beautiful eyes. Remind herself of how she fell so completely in love with this man. The love of her life. She loved him with every inch of her breath, but maybe… she loved him just a little bit too much. Tonight was steak night. With a side of home cut chips and a homemade garlic sauce that was ground and creamed all from scratch. A meal fit for a king, a meal perfect for a devoted-husband. Marco was her king. Marco was a solitary figure. Sure; when he was younger he was like any other young man. Marco was once impulsive. He was once ambitious. He was once rambunctious, fast living, with a devil may give a shit kind of attitude. But now – he was a quiet, gentle and wise man of solitary
CLINICAL After lunch I went back to my living quarters and drew a triangle. Between each corner of the triangle I wrote our names out. I was at the top of the triangle. On the bottom two corners I wrote Rosie and Kenneth. Rosie and Kenneth hated each other. I liked Rosie but I didn’t like Kenneth. Kenneth liked me but hated Rosie. The words hate were written at the bottom of the triangle. The words hate rang out in my mind. Hate being such a stronger word than like. Like, at the same time, being so timid in comparison to hate. Love was too extreme for two people I had known for two weeks. But like was so tame next to hate that it almost didn’t belong. Lunch was preceded by a jab in the arm. A new trial vaccination. We don’t even know what the vaccination is for. And any time we ask the question the answers are so dense and conflated that we wish we’d never asked. I share my living quarters with Rosie and Kenneth. Now that a triangle of like and hate has formed there’s a bipo
I was in a “DINER” – it was like an Ed Hopper painting. I’m English and we call them a cafeteria. But this has one of those truck-stop American vibes that you see in the movies (hell, I’d never even been to America) and everybody has trans-Atlantic accents. I hear the mumbled chat. The bikers were piling in, the waitresses chewed gum, the truckers wore those targeted T-Shirts that said how badass they are. I thought I was just turning off an A-Road from London and here I am in a diner in what felt like the middle of nowhere. The interior was lit with blinding artificial light and the outside was wrapped up in a fierce darkness. ‘What can I get you ‘hun?’ The waitress said. There I was pulling into a local eatery in my BMW and now I’m in one of those Twin Peak diners. There’s something amiss about this place. ‘Do you have a menu?’ I ask. She slaps one down on the table. She leans close into me. I feel the heat from her breath warm my entire body. Why am I so cold? ‘Where am I?” I ask. ‘