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"I hope that's hookers and beer in the back seat and not our Horsefly," I told Charlie as he sat in his car gathering my and Maggie's supper.
Dad and Charlie had just pulled up in front of my house with Sunday night fried chicken. Charlie burst out laughing. Horsefly mimicked Charlie's laugh heartily like an automaton.
"You look like hookers and beer," my father said chuckling as he escaped the passenger's side of Charlie's Caprica.
Dad had remembered my Cokes and smokes for which I was so very relieved and happy. He can be a tad bit forgetful at times. I had three cigarettes left and was starting to sweat in nervousness.
"I didn't do so well cleaning wise this week," I told our Charlie sounding sorrowful. "I haven't felt well mentally this afternoon."
Maggie was busy following Horsefly as he paced from room to room turning the lights on and off. My toilet got flushed a quite a few times as well. Horsefly's language skills continue to deteriorate. His conversations to himself were a jumble of staccato words I could barely make out.
Charlie had the kitchen clean and the trash gathered in a matter of minutes.
"It wasn't bad at all," Charlie told me walking back into the den carrying one gigantic trash bag.
That was my father's cue to get up and leave after being fixated with the television.
"Love you Jon-Tom," Charlie told me with his pet name for me and they were gone.
Maggie and I have a pact. I get a few bites of our chicken pot pie and I give her the rest. It is currently cooling on the kitchen counter.
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