"Clearance prices today only zero financing you got a job we've got the car you deserve to drive a brand new shiny ____"
do wop de dee de ta ta ta dum wop
I muted the television. The phone rang.
Probably a telemarketer. They're like locusts.
The sun set. I stayed in the rocker, looking out the window.
It was dark inside except for the television. The Price is Right on mute. Someone was winning a dinette set and a trip to Greece. They'd go to Greece and hate it, too many crumbling old buildings, all that oily fishy food, rot gut wine, tiny men who didn't speak English. Then they'd find out they had to pay taxes on the value of the fiasco, and the amount they owed in taxes for a trip they hated, well, they could have done a cruise out of Miami on one of those gorgeous ships for the money they owed the government. They'd like the dinette set, though they'd eat in the living room, in the rocker, watching reruns of The Price is Right and remembering when they won.