She rearranged the refrigerator again. It seemed almost impossible to keep the foot wide space in the center of the refrigerator clear of all food and containers from top to bottom. She kept telling the kids that the air couldn’t get through and that would cause the motor to quit working. She read all about it in the manual the day it was delivered. Still, kids never paid any attention.

Once again she walked back into the den where Reverend Tilton was blessing the prayer cloths he would be sending out that day. She was sure hers would be among the hundred or so on the desk so she stopped on this trip and knelt next to the ottoman to pray along with Pastor Bob. She found herself speaking in tongues. Soon Pastor Bob was also praying in tongues. This might be the day the lord would finally listen. Maybe little Terry would be healed.

The enormous head turned perhaps an inch toward the television noise in the next room. The blank eyes continued to stare at nothing. The diaper needed changing on the tiny little body. Water-head babies hardly ever lived to be seventeen.

About the Author

Gerald Cannon

I growed up po and ignant in Alabama. Then I went off to college and became a socialistic atheistic business school grad with an MBA. Not wanting to add evil capitalistic bastard to my resume, I obtained an antidote degree -the MFA. What a difference a letter makes. Now I teach college and make art. That's more fun and I'm less prone to drift toward the dark side. So, at the advanced age of sixty.... I have chosen mind over matter, joined the League of Defensive Pessimists and have no better answers, only fewer questions.

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