After the Fight

       At the count of ten, i watched some of my father die. As he sat with his red face in his oil driller's hands, my mother turned off the radio. We were to eat lemon meringue pie after the fight, my father's favorite. I was able to eat a little piece, but not my da, though he tried. He fell off the wagon that night.

excerpt from
The Cut Man
FX Toole
1999
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