theweedeater-CalvinClawson.docVIP

THE WEED EATER by Calvin C. Clawson  Copyright ? 2009 by Calvin Clawson All Rights Reserved 3435 Words, First Rights THE WEED EATER Parley sat at the breakfast table and, for several minutes, watched the soggy Corn Flakes soak up the milk. Ronda, pointing to the breakfast cereal, asked in her sharp, grating voice, Whats wrong, Grandpa? Why arent you eating? Parley continued staring at the bowl before him. Im not your grandfather, he thought, Im your fatherinlaw. Why do you call me grandpa? He looked up at her through watery eyes. Well? she demanded. Theyre perfectly good. Why dont you eat them? You expect me to fix you something different than everyone else? No! he managed to get out; suffering the pain in the back of his throat which speaking aloud caused him. Well, I dont know, she continued. You are the fussiest eater Ive ever seen. Dennis, tell him, tell your father I dont have time to fix something different for every member of this family. Parley turned toward his overweight son dressed in a red and white broadstripped shirt that hurt his eyes. Cereal isnt fixing anything, he quietly said. Rondas eyes grew large. What did he say? What did he say, Dennis? He talks so low I cant hear. Did he say something about my cooking? Dennis shook his head. No, sweetheart, he said he was thankful for breakfast. Parley felt anger rise up inside as he ground his false teeth together. No, ya dumb shit! he thought. I said she couldnt cook turd soup! He slowly reached for the spoon, feeling the arthritis shoot from his fingers to his wrist. He dipped up a spoonful of Corn Flakes and deposited them inside his mouth. Christ, how can a man live on this junk? No one heard his question; it was too much effort to use his vocal cords. He wished just once he could look down at his breakfast plate and see fried eggs, bacon and toast. Molly had always given him bacon and eggs. Ronda carried on her morning tirade. Dennis, you h