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November 16, 2007

David: Seriously, Just Spit It Out

“I have some bad news,” she said, and paused.

I filled the space with thought. Dad was dead. My brother was dead. My brother was in jail. The dog had cancer. The cat had been eaten by pygmies. The house had burned down, leaving only the phone. The car had been stolen by drug mules and then returned full of drugs so now everything they owned was impounded. Grandma had become a Scientologist and willed everything to Elron. One after another, the tragedies paraded through her conversational lull.

“I need some money to fix the air conditioner.”

“Oh, thank God.”

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