Mr. Dime was short at four-foot eleven.

  • Mr. Dime was short at four-foot eleven. Mrs. dime stood tall at six-foot seven. There were no little Dimes at all, folks said she was too tall,

  • too tall to fit in the double bed they shared. Would it work to sleep diagonally? Would she be forced to prop a chair under her feet? Being warm was very important to her, but

  • now that she found herself squished between the double bed and her newly installed Australian Cypress Bellawood flooring, she began questioning her life choices, like when she

  • stole a small 'decorative' Indian boy from a market stall. "Well, he looked great on my porch 'til he went missing" she said as she stroked her

  • skin-tags and oily pimples. She ate butter and mayo sandwiches and dunked boiled hog's feet in pimento-cheese dip, she once got a huge

  • piece of fat caught in her throat and had to give herself the Heimlich by

  • throwing herself into the kitchen counter. But, she had a fear of counters rooted in childhood experiences with setting the table for deranged visitors who'd befriended her mom.

  • One of the strangers was the late Kurt Vonnegut, who had carved a picture of his asshole into the counter and babbled on about the firebombing of Dresden. She feared counters and

  • carvings, but she loved Vonnegut and stories about Dresden. And pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. And unicorns.

  • How she could combine trite things like unicorns and pina coladas with the bitter gritty inferno that was the bombing of Dresden I could not fathom, but women are like that.



  1. jaw2ek Aug 01 2011 @ 08:32

    Nice ending, Slim

  2. SlimWhitman Aug 02 2011 @ 18:11

    Thanks Jaw!

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