DOWN THE DRAIN
Kurt Nimmo
First, I went
to the cabinet and
dragged out
the booze. There was
half a bottle and I poured
it down the drain.
There goes
more goddamn money,
I thought. Everything
is money and war and misery.
Next, she came out
of the bedroom. She was drunk.
Where's the checkbook,
I asked. She looked at me
with drunk eyes, said nothing.
I went over, grabbed
her purse, and dumped every-
thing on the floor.
I saw the checkbook
and a few dollars crumpled up
in hard green balls.
I'm taking control of the money,
I screamed. I picked up
the checkbook and money
from the floor. She stood there
like a zombie
as the dog ran off
to hide somewhere. Later,
as I slept, she took back the check-
book and the few crumpled
dollars. She went
to the liquor store and bought
two fifths of gin. I awoke,
found her with the booze.
A little demon
crawled up the side
of my spine, leaned against
my neck, and yelled in my ear:
kill the fucking bitch, kill her
right now. I ignored him,
went over and grabbed
the bottle. She resisted, but
I pushed her down,
went over to the kitchen sink,
began pouring it out.
You can't win this,
the demon sneered. She will
win and the prize will be
the grave. I ignored him and
poured out the booze.
It made a gurgle sound
like slow strangulation
as it went
down the drain.
