“Joe Biden is predicted to win,” the Book of Revelation.

When she didn’t answer, Miguel figured she didn’t know.

“Why is she crying,” he thought, not understanding his speaking made her happy.

He also didn’t understand that it had been a fight, this burning. Had he been older, learned to watch the television news, he’d of known what was twisting in his singular mind.

Each side, correct, but they couldn’t see the actual depth of their arguments. The outcome was the same and the outcome was as deadly as either.

A ball of flame was the spinning image in Miguel’s head and all-sides would learn that tomorrow was too late.

The radio played, “The Bones,” a song Miguel had learned to ignore. It had played and played and every time the radio was turned on, it played again.

Only one line held any interest for him: “The house don’t fall when the bones are good.” What it meant, he didn’t know or understand.

He chewed his perfectly buttered and jellied toast, turning the sentence over in his mind. Key words hung in his brain, house, fall, bones, good. An image flashed through his broken brain, the dome melting.

“What’s a supernova?” he asked his surprised Madre.

She couldn’t help crying.

Before I can agree to 2021, I need some terms and conditions first.

Click the link:   comstock-chronicle-oct-2.pdf

“If only those ‘others’ could understand what I know,” Miguel thought. He didn’t talk, he didn’t feel he had to.

He was slow to get dressed, he couldn’t stop shaking the small plastic globe, the fascination had become a full-blown idea, one he’d never be able to share, not that he really wanted too.

“A world,” he grunted as he slipped his pants on, “A globe, a dome, and we all live in it and under it.”

“Miguel!” he heard his Madre say, “Your desayanos getting cold. Prisa!”

His thought of the dome disappeared as he hurried towards the kitchen.

Not even one cloud could be seen for entertainment sake as I lay flat on my back, the cement pad as a bed, suffering back spasms. Usually I go inside and flop on the futon, which is laid out like a bed in the back room when my back says ‘Screw you, we’ve had enough.’
Couldn’t make to the futon, so I laid down after dragging the last box out of the garage and behind our gate. Been feeling the pain every since and not even three shots of whiskey has managed to mask the pain of my ‘four and five.’

Laughingly, both dogs came over to see what was going on. Yaeger gave me a sniff, then wandered off to piss in the yard, while Buddy felt it necessary to lay on me and lick my sweaty face.

We’re getting up early in the morning, so we can go buy glue and insulation. And as I sit here, tapping out these words, I realized that I’ve no idea how I’m going to insulate the ceiling other than hanging some drywall first.

Before I put up the insulation, I plan to hide a family picture and short note in an envelop so that one day, after my wife and I are gone, and our son has sold the place, a family doing some remodeling will find it and learn a brief history of their home. I’ve always wanted to do this and though my wife poo-poo’d the idea, I’m doing it anyway.

Think I’ll add a ‘Trump 2020’ sticker and a Comstock Chronicle too, so they’ll also have some dated memorabilia.

Miguel rolled over in his bed, pulling the twisted sheets out from under his body. He reached for the plastic snow globe and spun it back and forth.

The autistic boy smiled as the flakes of snow flitted and floated about the water and drifted to the blue base of the globe. Miguel didn’t realize it, but his dream was quickly fading from his thoughts.

“Simple minded,” he’d heard the others say, but Miguel knew different. He was more than ‘different,’ he was ‘especial’ and knew it, even if the others didn’t understand.

“Desayuno!” he heard his mother call out.

Even Covid-19 picked Trump over Biden.

With horror, she touched the gun tucked in her black sweat shirt’s pocket. It brought a glaze of sweaty moisture to her neck and back and she pushed the hood of her shirt from her head.

“God, it’s bright out here,” she complained.

Standing up, she walked to a nearby garbage can and dropped the gun into the trash. She felt a great weight lift from her shoulders and it felt good.

The city was quiet as she strolled back the way she’d first come. What had she come to the park for in the first place?

She couldn’t remember.