"you would think it, wouldn't you?" The thing wouldnt start, he tried and tried. kicking it, screaming at it, spitting out the half rolled down, half tilted window. 3 minutes went by and he just stepped out. giving the door to his 1964 chevy, jungle green truck a good kick before walking back inside the cold house. he picked up the phone, dialing the 7 numbers he thought he would never dial again. ring.....ring.....ring..... click..shiighfl...shrrufff... "hello" "he...hello....bruce?" "yes...this is him, who is this?" "why, Bruce its your father. dont you know my own damn voice?" "oh, hello sam, what is it this time?" "i need a jump....can you help your old dad out with that?" "huh....?...oh yeah. sure. just give me 10 minu..." "10 minutes! i...you know i can't wait that long damnit!" "hmm...ok, well how's about i dont come at all..?" "no no....fine just hurry ok...ok?" "yep." the line clicked, and sam hung up too. he looked out the window into the gray morning. the sky looked swollen with storm, but he hadn't heard anything about one coming. "shit! i sure hope nothing comes our way today at least not til after nightfall. this job is it for me, i need it, im at the end...i got nothin' but rice and peanut butter, and a little drink. what'll i do?" Sam unrolled his left cuff of his worn moth eaten pajama flannel he wore all too often, and pulled out a pack. pulling one out he stuck in between his dry lips and bit down on it. reaching into his back pocket he felt around for a lighter. instead knicking his finger on one of many screws that were stuffed down in there. "DAMN!" he walked over to the counter and flung open a drawer. pulling out a match book. He struck one and it popped, the flame hit the tobacco and he inhaled. he almost slunk back into a chair a few feet away it felt so good. hearing the crackle of the cigarette and feeling that smooth heavy smoke come in and go out just the same, even though he wanted to keep it there a little longer. the blue swirls mixed with the gray morning air too nicely to be held too long. he started backwards for the wooden chair.... The door blew open and startled sam. he turned with his hand bloody and curled in defense. No one was there. "oh shoot, its that damn wind again...the storms closer than i thought. PLEASE! wait storm, i'll do any damn thing you want...please....fhishkssjh(mumbles)" He walked over and shut the door, latching it this time and turned back towards the kitchen. Startled by another man sitting in the very chair he was about to take rest in. "Wuh..Wuh....who in the hell are you! GET OUT!" "whoa now pops..its ok. Im just here to tell you a little story....you want to hear it?" "First of all dont you come in here all cozy like and be callin' me pops! and no god damnit, i want no part of this "story", you get the hell out now!" "hmm...i think ill stay for a little longer. theres something i need your son to see as well." "h...how do you know he's coming here?" "oh, now now...i know a whole lot more than you would even begin to imagine....lets just get something straight...you dont have the right to make anyone feel unwelcome in your home...you have no right to complain...and you have no right to live.' "excuse me?....what are you talkin'...." "you know damn well friend what im here for....so you just sit right down and wait your damn turn" "no....i have no clue. what did i do? tell me now! i dont want my son to hate me even more....this is just what i need, a crazy coming in here teling me whats what on a day where everythings as up side down as ever." "you really dont remember me? look at me damn you! just look." Just than samn made for eye contact. he got a pain in his gut, the eyes were blue...hollow almost...he saw the lines in the face...the hair...he could see the hands and the way they hung over his knee. the pain in his stomach grew, twisting and pulling up all the heaviness that lay down below. "uhhhh...WOOOOOOOLLLLLSHHHP!" vomiting he fell to his knees and fell than to all fours. he looked up and the man sitting was than older. it was his father...staring down at him just as he had through out his childhood many times....just like he had done on his last day on earth. he stood and walked over to his sunken body. put his hand on his head... "so now you know...and this is how it must be. you begged for the sway and stab of the storm to come later, and its already waited...ive been waiting far too long. your a failure, you have no strength left in you, and your mouth is a poor excuse for any sense of what you might perceive as "power" or even life. you know what must come now, so no begging and no tears, im your father, i loved you once, and that faded fast. no more will you have to prove yourself, no more will you have to wake to a sad morning, no more will you have to try to survive in this world that is meant for death and death alone. thank me thank me, and be calmed." just than sam went down and the sound of cats fighting in the distance held what was to be what was left of the morning. sams father sat down, sipped at the stale coffee on the table and disappeared. foot steps clunked up the stairs and knocked. the nob jiggled and the door soon shook. sams son stood at the window looking in. his father lie on the ground, peaceful, quiet, and done. bruce ran around back and made it to the door, opening it and running to his father. the clocked ticked at 8:36am and a bright pink tow truck no chained to sams chevy pulled away into the warm wet morning as one cat walked away from the fight and the other lie there, in the golden grass, in perfect form preening and waiting for tomorrow. .....................T H E E N D......................