Smoke & Oil

His short blond hair was gelled up with blue dyed little spikes that glistened under the streetlamps. In his mind he knew it was late, but not too late. His vision was blurry and slow from hours of drinking – but his step was true - for the promise of veal flesh and onions drove him onward, up the hill to the old house.

For a few minutes he mumbled to himself as he fiddled with the front door. Upon entering the kitchen he took off his paisley tie and immediately turned on the mini deep fryer that his mother had purchased for him last Christmas.
He clumsily took frozen veal patties from the icebox and unwrapped the freezer burned flesh from their plastic baggies. To pass the time he lit up a smoke and starred at a poster of 3 busty blond women in the back of a red pickup truck that hung next to the sink. He read the license plate and contemplated its meaning. It simply read, ‘haul - ass.’

Once the fryer was ready, he plopped the frozen veal into the hot oil. With the lit cigarette still dangling from his mouth, he leaned over the crackling and hissing cauldron and saw that it was good. He drew a deep breath and sighed.

Satisfied with his work, he then dropped his trousers and proceeded to take a 3 minute piss out of the open kitchen window. As his stream fell down onto the sod below, his head tilted backwards and his eyes closed.

Later when his meal was ready, he positioned himself at the head of a small kitchen table in the corner. The room took on a yellow hue as the thick odor from the fried veal mingled with the cigarette smoke - and as if awaken from the most beautiful dream, he opened his eyes, dropped his jaw, and wondered if he could ever radiate the light of god.