i love you Mom.

Jack Tait woke up and immediately pulled down his pants and jerked off.  ten minutes later he ran to the bathroom and took a shit.  he looked to the left and saw no toilet paper so he turned on the water in the shower and stepped in.  he looked down below and saw runny brown water slowly sinking into the yellowy brown drain.  another day closer to death.  his day about to begin.
He walked outside into the bright sunshine and bitterly cold winds.  snow coming down even without clouds.  another unexplainable event in Jack’s tormented and lonely life.  peasants teaching him the rules of life but the rules of life that these peasants were teaching Jack were the rules of life that the so-called gods of the world taught the sheep.  peasants.  ants.  cockroaches.  yellow rabbits and pink rats.  a world filled with maggots and phonies.  with liars and bullshitters.  small dicks winning the race to the top of the mountain.  a mountain filled with fake politicians.  and even faker followers.  a world filled with stupid youtube videos and celebrities that are good for nothing but sucking cock and eating caviar.  celebrities that are forgotten in a blink of a gunshot to the left ear.  music about nothing.  movies about nothing.  books about nothing.  theatre about nothing.  NOTHING IS THE NEW 40.  a 40 calibre bullet pulsating right between the eyes of Prime mINISTERS AND pRESIDENTS.  while lonely.  sad.  hungry children are walking without shoes across the rundown streets of Detroit, Katy Perry is swinging from a rope that is being pulled by a helicopter with fake sharks dancing below.
Jack Tait looked for his tricycle but had to dig out from the beer cans and forty ounce bottles of Jack. He eventually found it and wiped the seat off with his hairy arm.  he stopped to take a big deep breath and then began to pedal.  he was on a mission.
Feb. 17.  1978.
Screams from the hospital resonating to the ears of a young and promising man.  silence combined with fear.  radio playing “Staying Alive” while Jack tossed and turned on the small bed.  memories…are their ever any good ones?
The hospital doors swing open and a young woman runs through.  screaming.  shivering.  lost in thought and lost in life.  a world filled with hope.  filled with dreams.  filled with love.  filled with church going hypocrites and old ladies baking chocolate chip muffins.  LOVE WILL NEVER TEAR US APART as the drains get clogged with blood and urine.  coughing below.
Music interfering in the absurdity of life.  the absurdity of death.  little team of ants running to their next sandtrap.  “how many ants get killed in one summer day in Toronto?”
Jack Tait pedalled and pedalled.  his young mother screaming and screaming.  the doctor looking his MOm in the eye (she had two) and telling her the bad news.  “he didn’t make it.  I’m sorry.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
  Jack Tait continued pedalling. 
 “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
  tears.  Kleenex.  Mrs. Vine.  Mr. Vine.  Toasted Western sandwiches and corner houses filled with crying family members. 
Jack Tait rode through red lights and red people.  red stop signs and red cars.  everything red.  everything irrelevant.  irrelevant lives and irrelevant rules.  his one remaining wish.  “I want to hug you again Dad.”
Jack Tait eventually made it to the cemetery.  his face now reddened and icy.  his beard covering his once handsome and innocent face.  silence once again.  fears revisited.  Jack Tait jumped off of his tricycle and looked around at all the dead leaves.  lonely graves and lonely flowers.  snow covering his Dad’s tombstone.  Jack began to dig and dig and dig some more.  his one nut frozen and lonely.
Jack Tait eventually hacked through all the ice and all the snow.  he leaned down and saw his Dad’s name.  Bernard Wavell McKenna. 1941-1978.  He also saw his Nana’s name.  Mary McKenna.  1914-1978.  Two deaths in one month.  a third saved by efficient and caring paramedics.  not saved by prayers.  there were no miracles in Jack Tait’s young life.  “I’m glad you didn’t die Mom.  That would have been sad.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Jack Tait’s young Mom screaming and screaming.  blank red eyes and beautiful brown skin.  hugs from close friends and close family members.  friends and family that are no longer around.  still alive but not around.  life whizzing by much too quickly.  Jact Tait was once a boy.  Now he is sixty.  Jack’s Mom was once thirty-eight.  she is now seventy-six.  Jack’s Dad was once thirty-six.  he is now buried underground.  thirty seven years underground.  hugs.  kisses.  tears of joy and tears of pain.  broken down walls and broken down cars.  broken souls and broken noses.  great laughs and great food.  topsy turvy life.  topsy turvy emotions.  sixty years old and still fighting the good fight.  Jack Tait jumped back on his tricycle and rode to 11 Lindaway.  his Mom staring out of the window smoking a half smoked cigarette.  lonely.  love.  lost.  worried.  hearts lost and hearts blocked.
Jack Tait looked up and saw pain.  felt empathy.  brick wall finally crashing down in a wave of tears and snot.
“I love you Mom.  please don’t die and leave me all alone.”