by Tim Burke
Read by Cayenne Chris Conroy
Sometimes Keith would wander into the visitors’ waiting room, just so he could see time passing. The window faced south and the room was filled with autumn dusk the color of dried egg yolk.
The monitors beeped and the machine fixed to his father’s throat rasped. The one tube that ran to a plastic jug of amber urine, its tube disappearing under the sheets. Keith imagined the tube sliding up his penis, the pain of the urethra being forced open.
His father did not want to end up an old man tied down in a bed. When he threw a bowling ball down a lane and had to spend five minutes catching his breath, he glared if you even looked at him struggling.
About the Author
TIM W. BURKE was raised within a mile of several US Federal Penitentiaries, was once a black belt in Aikido, and has a dark, satiric movie available worldwide called THE KIBBLES AND BITS OF HELLORAMA which FilmThreat.com called “Pee Wee’s Playhouse meets Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood on crack.” His fiction currently appears in the latest “Space And Time” magazine and an upcoming issue of “Stupendous Stories.” Look for him on his blog To Smother In Order To Sell The Body To Science.