TIN-FOIL
I braised your heart with a
little liver oil, and ate it. OK?
Olive oil may have been better,
but all I had was liver in this
ancient, colonial house. I had
a hundred men here too - all
ghosts from revolutionary times,
guys from 1778 and the years around.
Musket balls and cannons. They
seemed not to like a thing but
what can you do as a ghost? You
can't even really invite them in,
or out, because they just do what
they want anyway. They are ghosts,
after all - wanton figments, like
bad dreams of the Applebaums
coming back. Oh, man, remember
them? That damned, old Chevy they
had that would never shut off. I had
a car like that once too; never able to
figure it out. Turn it off, and it just
kept firing, lumping over on itself,
like trying to start again, or keep
running but meaning to shut off too.
Applebaum had one in green. He said
the mechanic said hot spot, or carbon
or something, that just kept making
it fire. I forget, never knew, never
wanted to either. Get a crummy car
to go, it won't shut off. Get it to
shut off, it won't ever start again.
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