By Jeffrey A. Paolano
“Mr. Wenderson, wakeup dear,” Mrs. Bellishing whispers delicately.
Although her charge remains reposed, Mrs. Bellishing is well informed of his chicanery. Rheumy eyes secrete effluent. Permeating talc scents the whiff of a clandestine butt.
“Y’all’ll be late for Miss Capland.”
Mr. Wenderson’s eyes pop wide. The blue veins on his hand-backs stand erect. His skin is filo-like over bones as he writhes against age’s hellishly biased burden.
“Now, don’t get all steamed,” Mrs. Bellishing chides, placing the sacred Viet Nam Veteran cap on his head.
The twitching gelatinous lips dripping salvia belie the warrior who knows still for what he fights.
This story made me go back to find out the author’s name. He has captured here the reality of our shared human condition.
kind words–you’ve my gratitude
“Filo over bones.” Very descriptive, the pictures of both in so few words. I want to know more about this vet.
Your interest is appreciated.