“I want to see fire and I want to see tits,” Nigel ordered sternly. “Breasts. And old cars. I don’t want this intelligent propaganda shit besmirching my home and your pretty little head.” He was again disappointed with the batch of movies Eva had picked up at the library for them. “We don’t watch these things anymore, okay my dear?”
“Uh, sure,” Eva replied with a bored tone. “They’re just documentaries.” The amusing charm of him peppering his everyday speech with ten-dollar words had run its course. It was probably his way of trying to sound more well-read but was now only a constant reminder to Eva of what a poor life choice she had made. She was rather dismayed over the steady decline of intellect in her life ever since she had begun dating Nigel. To make matters worse, she had foolishly been talked into letting him move into her cabin earlier that winter. It had turned into a disaster.
Her wall of books on the handcrafted shelves had been swapped out with an array of action-packed garbage and the big picture window in the front of the cabin was now blocked with an enormous flat-screen monitor. He had set up a noisy generator out back to power it, and Eva wanted to spit nails every time she looked at the things. Not only had he taken over her personal space, but he was also now deciding which movies and books were allowed to exist, and his selections were pitifully stupid. Everything had been dumbed down, real quick.
Just a couple weeks earlier Eva was at George’s house one evening trying to connect to the paltry smoke signals of the crazy-slow Innersnet when all hell broke loose. She was taking advantage of what appeared to be a lull in the community kitchen. Nobody was around. Her computer was set up on the large table, recharging and copying files while she had the luxury of electricity and a few minutes of solitary time. The lull did not last long.
Copyright © 2019 J.J. West. Fiddlesticks! Tales From A Country Ghetto.
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