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RUBY50-6
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1995-10-27
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2KB
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39 lines
Copyright 1995(c)
MOMMA DIED TODAY
by J.R. Hemlin
Momma died today.
At least I think she's dead. Hasn't moved for hours. Thank
God she ain't making that dammed gurglin' noise no more. 'Snuf to
drive a man crazy. Should call the sheriff, I guess. Na'ah. He'd
jest ass' me a lot of questions. Then all of Krogerdale County
would be jabbin' about it. And widow Parker would prob'ly tell 'em
how I was tetched in the head. And how momma should'a put me in
that hospital. They should'na ought'a told her that. Kept tellin'
her and kept tellin' her and kept tellin' her. It's all their
fault. Their fault. Theirs.
Too bad about the pillow, the one George gave her on their
weddin' day. Never liked him much. Pillow's gotta be satin, fer
sure. Bought it in China, he said. Must of paid a shitload of money
for it. Prob'ly still fetch a good piece. Billy Daniels buys stuff
like that. Have to git the puke off, though.
The warm milk is startin' to sour. God it stinks. Don't seem
proper. Maybe I should wipe off her mouth.
Funny how her face is still warm. Poor momma. Gotta git her
in the ground afore she gits cold. God she's heavy. Still limp too.
Look at them eyes, starin' back at me. Stop lookin' at me like that
momma. It weren't my fault. Almost there. Here it is. Down you go.
Oops. Sorry to drop you, momma.
Hole's a bit small. That's OK. We'll jest bend the knees a
little. Gotta' wipe the puke off agin'. Keeps oozin' out. Is that
comfy, momma? Good. Now where's that shovel.
I wonder if I'm suppose to say somethin' first? What was it
they said for George? Funny how they can have a funeral without a
body. Guess they'll do it for momma, too. Maybe they'll ask me to
say somethin' then. No time now.
Looks like rain. Gotta fill in the hole. I'll plant roses on
top, momma. You always did like roses. Dirt in the hole. Dirt in
the hole...
What was that, momma? Yeah, I love you too.
End