The spider plants you gave back are plotting insurrection; they've
guillotined my dog and left his head in the freezer. It was there when
I got home from our last meeting – his teeth ice-crystalled,
almost sparkling, his eyes plucked out for fish food. Your aquarium's
on my list, just so you know. You know I know you planted coup
d'état whispers in that one big green offshoot. Watch out
– I've always wanted more than you ever dreamed of and you,
well, you phoned Jimmy Hoffa every morning your rotary would work.
Remember those dialing pains?
- - -
Read RC's story, "If I Don't Leave the House,
I Won't Know I'm in the South."
w i g · l e a F