Corn

by Dani

low rumble of an engine…”working nine to five, what a way to make a livin’ “… whistling…car door slams.

“Hey D”.

Hi dad. Where’d you go?

“Corn hunting”

Dad, please don’t buy any more corn.

“I bought a dozen”

I know you did. But we can’t eat any more corn.

“I’ll go peel it”

Dad, seriously we can not eat anymore corn.

“I got plenty”

Dad, we can not cook and eat a dozen ears of corn every day. Maybe you could just buy three or four.

“I like corn. Cook it for me”

I know you do dad.

A ravenous dog doesn’t not attack a t-bone with as much zeal as my father attacks an ear of corn. The effort that goes into consuming an ear of corn with no bottom teeth… let’s say that if I’d put that kind of effort into my education I would be driving a better car today. I have recently repositioned myself at the dinner table so that I sit next to rather than across from him because I just can’t do it anymore. It’s like watching a nature show where the lion stalks, corners, kills and then tears apart a baby zebra. It’s real. It happens. But I can no longer be a part of it.

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