It was early evening, and the sun was just starting to set, its rays shining weakly through my library windows.  I was sitting in my grandfather’s leather wing chair, and a crackling fire on the hearth quickly took the chill out of the air.  Me and my friend, The Cat, were talking about this and that.  I took a sip from my Kentucky bourbon, then mentioned to The Cat that the country loses money every year, and she replied, “Well, what utter nonsense”, as she licked her front paw and paused a moment.  “The politicians shouldn’t get paid then, unless the country makes money.”

(With a nod to Loudon Wainwright III and Jackie Mason; thanks for the inspiration.)

©2022, excerpt from “Supreme Theater”