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Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves

Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves

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Published by donkeytale

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Published by: donkeytale on Nov 19, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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I think the technical term you want is
I, on the other hand, am an aspie…like Dylan, an autistic
If my girlfriend dumps me she’s a psycho.
If she decides to stay she’s an exulted aspie…
 My wife is outside at midnight giving life support to one of the raccoons she adoptedover the summer. No shit. She tames wild animals, teaches them to understand koreanand behave.
The fattest fucking raccoon I ever saw in my life. No wonder he’s having a stroke. My
Her blind dog has diabetes.
I’m an alcoholic sadist.
 Yet life goes on.Sorry to hear about your break-up.Did I ever tell you about sharing a beer with Peter Falk back in the day while hefilmed the
Job on the streets of the North End?I was a young lumpen prole working a warehouse gig for three bucks an hour onCommercial Street.Falk was a pretty cool guy. Very salty down to earth.Lots a sailor talk. He seemed a bit envious of us working-class gunks. He insisted hecould only have one beer but it was obvious he could have used a few more. He stoodon the sidewalk peering quizzically into the warehouse through his one trademarkedsteely eye just like Lt. Columbo, as we put on one of our best after-lunch-on-paydaybeer drinking performances ever, interrupted only occasionally by
Director, a good-natured displaced Georgia cracker named Grady, who would order one of us to re-arrange and consolidate a few more of the hundreds of partially-emptied palettes of 
floor tiles so we could free space for next Monday’s newest consignment.
 Mr. Falk shifted his weight from one foot to the other in visible discomfort during thelengthy delay as the crew meticulously prepared a wintry illusion in the dead of summer.
If they couldn’t capture the twelve second take before the quality of the sunlight
changed they would be forced to come back tomorrow at the same time and try again.
I’d never 
after feel so free as I did in those days and now it’s gone, it’s all gone: Boston,
UPDATE!!! Jeezus, the cops just came. She called the freaking pigs because of theraccoon. The Sheriff comes up with a rifle. Fewer things more unsettling than a coproaming around your space armed to the teeth.-
Raccoon’s sick ma’am. We’ll have to shoot him….
Course, that won’t do. Frau Tale is crying, sobbing now. No one ca
n cry moredisconsolately, more forlornly, more instantly, than my wife.-Why did I have to
him?Her wail carries across the hush darkness of the woods as the sheriff trains hisobnoxious flashlight on the dazed animal, who walks in circles, stumbles, falls flat, getsback up only to fall flat again and tremble.-Get up baby! Get up and run away to save your life!Frau Tale is really agitated. The Buddhist monks taught her as a child that she mustremain disconnected from the ritual of dying in all its forms. She has never attended afuneral in her life. She apologised when she told me that she would not be able toattend mine, even.
Finally, the copper turns to leave when I tell him that he won’t be able to shoot the
hapless coon in front of my wife.
Truth is, I’m not so keen on witnessing the little bugger 
croak either.-
No, no. I’ll just put him in this plastic bag and take him away.
Uhm. Please. We need to let this play out, officer. My wife…
 He shrugs and trudges back up the hill to his police cru
iser. I realise that he’s not such abad guy. It’s the uniform and the .22 calibre rifle in his right hand.
 Maybe its me. Something powerfuls bothering me now, too.
Frau Tale sends me back to the house to google
.” I better log off 
now before she realises I’m wasting my time blogging instead of being useful.
 Too late! She glides soundlessly through the door as is her manner and stands in frontof me as I frantically try to switch sites.-Call the Sheriff back. He needs to come back. Quick now. And like that, as gracefully as her quiet entrance, she disappears out the back door.October 11, 2012 12:09 AM
 Anonymous said…
 It is my sad duty to report.

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