the Was. of Jimmy McVonson - act one; division thirteen: o}ne da{y

pandora kept coming over to teach me about reading

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pops called me at least 3 times a day

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and i would pick up every time

just to let him know i was okay.

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pops started taking a shoemaking class

after work

to keep his brain busy

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i never knew exactly what his job was

something to do with thinking

going to meetings

and writing emails

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one day i got a call from gail’s phone

and i picked up immediately

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“heyyy i’m doing good, how are you?”

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“hey, jimmy.” said gail, “i have sad news.”

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i didn’t want it so i told her “stop”

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she said “your dad passed away last night”

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i said “fuck you”

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she said “it wasn’t my fault”

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i said “i know”

and i ended the call

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i called pandora about it

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i punched a pillow

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i cried

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diabetes is a bitch.

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