From: Leo A. Davenport
To: Jane McIntyre-Davenport
Time: 9:03 a.m.
Subject: Looking forward to the weekend

One thing: do you think you could remember to flush the toilet from now on, after a shower? This isn’t the first time I’ve asked, as you know. It’s just unpleasant; you’re my wife.

Also, I feel like we have to have a longer conversation about Janet. Another weird exchange this morning.

Looking forward to the weekend!

John had turned a corner. Not figuratively so much as literally. As in he was headed forward and had taken a sharp 90 degree turn after passing the end of the wall to his left. As people turning corners often do. Anyway, John had turned a corner, and what he found around the bend changed his life forever. Wait, I guess that means he sort of turned a corner figuratively, as well. Okay, forget that first bit, then.

J doesn’t suffer all the comments laid down like bear traps to drag him down to their level.

J knows he is no Michael Jackson but enjoys the sound of his voice and the attention, even if it is in the form of ‘fag’ and ‘retard’ and ‘8====D~~~’.

J has learned to live with such people.

It’s quiet out there. Too quiet. Dust devils spin like drunken dervish dancers and scraggly tumbleweeds cartwheel through desolate streets. You lean back on your chair outside the front door of Miss Kitty’s and listen to the tinkling honky tonk piano, waiting for something, anything, to happen. A red headed stranger appears out of nowhere, riding bareback on a lean and hungry, spotted feral mustang named Cassius.

You know what’s truly scary? The fact that the birth control pill is only 99.9% effective. Wait, that means that one in a thousand times I should get pregnant anyway, right? That’s not really very heartening. If I entered a contest to win a car and the odds were one in a thousand, I would think, hey, I’ve got a pretty decent chance of winning this car. Except that car is an unwanted fetus!