Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.butt.harp,alt.prose,rec.arts.prose
From: richh@netcom.com (richh)
Subject: RICHH:  JUST NOT RIGHT
Organization: NETCOM On-line Communication Services (408 241-9760 guest)
Date: Sun, 13 Mar 1994 17:28:06 GMT
Lines: 98

      News item:

     A Santa Ana, California woman poured rubbing alcohol on her
cancer-ridden husband and set him afire--burning over thirty
percent of his body--because he ate her chocolate Easter bunny,
police said.
     The woman, who said she only meant to scare him, went shopping
and didn't call paramedics until eight hours after torching her
husband.
     In a jailhouse interview she said she got her first good night
of sleep in years, because at home her husband constantly watches
television and needs to be fed and have his diapers changed.

-----------------------------
     
     Honey, I still love you.
     I guess I always will.
     Baby, please come back.
     I need a change and my
     Fingers can't do the phone.

     You could have left the tv on.
     It means a lot to me.
     Little things like that I
     Appreciate, you know.
     Can you hear me?  Am I speaking?

     You know what I remember most 
     Of all?  Times I would stand
     In the doorway and watch you
     Combing out your hair.  You
     Still have beautiful hair.

     And the way I held you when they played a slow one, back in
school.  I know you liked that.  When we were alone, later, you
always wanted me to start by slow-dancing with you.  I didn't mind.
God, when was the last time?  Must have been at the Kelley boy's
wedding.  When was that?  Well, I imagine they have some of their
own by now.  In fact, didn't you say just the other day that you
had seen--When was that?  When was their wedding?  Was it 5 years
ago?  Ten?  Was it last week?  
     Do you ever wish we'd had some of our own?  I know you told
me, straight away from the start, how you were not the maternal
type.  I knew that going in.  I accepted it and it was fine.  I'd
have done anything for ya, you know.  I still would.  But gosh,
you know?
     Gosh.  
     That's a funny smell.
     The bed didn't catch.  That's good.  Guess it's just about
gone out.  You know, doll, if you'd have told me you wanted that
chocolate bunny, I'd have been happy to give it to you.  

     All I wanted was a taste of something sweet.
     That's all.

     You remember our week in Hawaii?  I do.  You got such a
burn.  I had to rub that ointment onto you for weeks.  I expect
that it's your turn now.  It was still a fine week.  I'd like to
get back there, one of these days, hon.  You know?  I imagine you
would too.  Now, when we can both really appreciate it.  Yes,
that'd be a fine thing.
     How come no one calls us anymore?  If someone called I could
answer it, you know.  They'd come around.  Or send someone.  But no
one does.  
     It's funny, but you know, all growing up I envied my
Catholic friends because their families were so huge and there
were always so many things going on.  Little ones scampering about.
Always!  That's the way to do it, you know.  Big families.  Lots
of sons, daughters, cousins.  Cousins!  They have so many
cousins!  And they have all these twice removed things!  I still
don't know how that thing works.
     Oh, remember that night we stayed up in bed and laughed all
night about that very thing?!  Sure.  I can't remember who--was it
old Pat Kelley again?--but he was just going on and on about how
this eighteenth cousin, 96 times removed, had been born with
something wrong with her heart, and how the whole family was
rallying together to raise money for special treatments she had to
get?  You remember?  You were the best that night.  You did this
hysterical imitation of Pat Kelley--I mean, you really had him
down cold.  I could not stop laughing.
     All night.
     Poor kid.  Something wrong with her heart.  
     That's bad.  I believe you can take anything as long as your
heart's ok.  That's what keeps me going you know.  I've always
had a fabulous ticker.  I fully expect the rest of me to disappear
and for you to come home one day and feed Cream of Wheat to just a
heart wearing a bib.  
     Ho!  Wouldn't that make a funny cartoon?  You know what I
miss?  On Sunday mornings, watching you read the comics, and the
way you laughed.  Your laugh!  I swear to God, if I'd a-ever
bottled that and sold it, we'd be millionaires right now.  We never
seem to laugh together anymore.  
     I miss that.

     Honey, this isn't right.  Come back now.  Hear?

RICHH
--circa ago