Triangle Stories: 1

  1. Four little pigs went out on Halloween.  Their mother did not know how to count.  Every time, she was with the: one, two… wait…. And the four children waited because what else could they do?

She pushed them in a stroller-for-four, up and down the apartment hall, and each neighbor was curious.  One, two, three, four?

“They’re not kosher,” one neighbor whispered.

“And who is the big bad wolf?”

“And why aren’t they blind?”

“And where is the grandma?” other neighbors said.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know,” the mom said.

Mom had three more children and she dressed them as the Beatles minus John.

 

2. The owner of the building didn’t even know what he owned.  He was on life support at Mary and Associates General.  A machine breathed for him, like Frankenstein, he breathed, but without Frankenstein’s innovative thrill at being able to breathe.  The owner of the building and the body was not working

His wife came to visit twice a week, and his son once a month, and his daughter every other week, and his lawyer, once a week.  He owned 40 buildings in the area, and it was going to be a bitch-mess untangling of assets when he died.  He resisted will-making because he didn’t like death.

A man named Harum trimmed his fingernails, and toenails.  A woman named Isolde bathed him, as much as he could be bathed.  The dirty water never looked very dirty.

He lived a long time.

 

3. The plantains were not bananas, she realized as she unpacked the toys for her new day care.  It was in the first floor of the building.  It was called “Little Angels,” and like all places with “angels” in the name, it was to be terrible.

When inspected, dead bandaids would be found stuck to the floor and the toys, and a piece of broken glass would be found amongst the Duplos.  And the soap dispenser was empty.  This owner, though, was Excited to Serve the Community By Making Money.  She had just been diagnosed with MS, and needed a desk job, like applying for grants for day cares.

“Are we supposed to have weird food?  Should I get the plastic sushi?” she said to no one, as she hobbled over to the trash with the play food plastic shell packaging.  She was hobbling from stubbing her toe earlier, the MS had not caught her that tightly yet.  “I don’t know,” she said to herself.

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