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Garbage Man by Charles Gershman “It don’t matter what she look like on the outside, long’s she can down a good glass o’ beer,” he said. He sounded as though buried in a pile of brown leaves, his voice muffled, as I sketched the crevices of his face. “Because that’s all that matters. Once she drunk, ’n you drunk, s’all that matters.” “Is that how it was with you and Franny?” “Youbetchyer sorry ass it was. Though I did grow to love her, I sure did. Despite all her flaws. She was fat, and she was two feet shorter than me. Like a beached whale, that woman—” “You sound like you’re still angry at her.” “Maybe I am,” he said. “After all, I paid all her expenses. I was her life support for more than fifty years. She worked one week in all her life.” “What did she do?” “She was a goddamned candy-striper. One week. That’s it. You know what she promised when she married me?” “What?” “She said I’d live like a king married to her. S’what made me want to marry 'er in the first place. ’Stead I lived like a garbage man. You know the guys wake you up in the morning—that’s me, fifty years. Until retiring two years ago. Not literally, but you know. That’s me.”
Date Written: March 14, 2007
Author: charlesg928
Average Vote: 3.75