In this issue

Tramadol Price

Short Fiction by Brian Warfield

Tramadol Price, He was floating in the pool on a circle of inflatable rubber. She was lying on a chair made of plastic strips which dug into her skin. Tramadol class, The lines of flesh where it pushed against the chair ran up to where her bathing suit began.


He swam up to her and she peered over the book she was reading. Her brother had just gone into the house. He called her brother “Bubble Gum” because he had some kind of skin condition that made him break out into rashes all over his face and arms, Tramadol no rx. Bubble Gum was his best friend, Tramadol Price. As soon as the screen door closed she said, Buy Tramadol without a prescription, “I’m going to kiss you,” and he kicked the side of the pool with his foot sending him floating away from her.


There were trees in the yard and he stared up at them when he floated away, the green of the leaves making designs against the blue of the sky, taking Tramadol. They were like a magician’s arms that distracted him from catching the revelation of an illusion.


The screen door slammed and Bubble Gum ran out of the house with a Super Soaker clutched between two rash-riddled arms. Tramadol samples, His right hand cocking the pneumatic pump, taking aim at his sister.




In the bathroom, Valentyna took off her suit and looked at herself in the mirror, Tramadol no prescription. She thought about the boy in the pool and how she hadn’t kissed him. In the reflection she could see the arms of the trees tapping against the window.


Tramadol Price, Why had she threatened to kiss him. Discount Tramadol, She thought about it while brushing her hair, looking into the mirror, past herself and through the window, Tramadol street price. She thought she saw him climbing the tree to spy on her while she was changing.




He spent the night in Valentyna’s brother’s room, Tramadol wiki, which smelled like ointment rubbed into skin. He was awake, staring at the bottom of the mattress and the wooden slats supporting it, Tramadol price. Bubble Gum was asleep on the top bunk. He lifted one of his legs and put his foot on a slat, kicking it, Tramadol Price. Tramadol pics, He sort of hated Bubble Gum and his sister. Bubble Gum snored.


Shadows crisscrossed on the wall like dragon scales. It was the light of the sun reflected off the moon shining through the leaves of the trees coming through the window.


The same light was shining in Valentyna’s room, Tramadol interactions, her face dappled in moonlight and shadow.




He woke up in the middle of the night. Doses Tramadol work, A figure stood over him. Tramadol Price, He started to say Bubble Gum’s name, but a hand reached out and touched his lips. The hand and the arm attached to it were soft and smooth. Valentyna beckoned to him as she moved towards the door.


He got out of bed and pulled his pants and shoes on, Tramadol maximum dosage, casting glances at the silhouette in the doorway.


They ran outside, Tramadol mg, her hand pulling his, running into the thick of the woods at the edge of the yard. They crossed the line into the thicket. Hands and claws of trees and brush reached out to touch them on the cheek as they passed.




When they got to a clearing, Valentyna stopped and pushed him to the ground. He tried to get up, but she reached down and pushed a lump of dirt into his face, Tramadol Price. She leaned over him, pressing her hands on his chest. He looked up at her. She felt a trickle of blood running down from a scratch under her eye.


He reached up and touched it with his thumb.


At that moment, Valentyna knew she could kiss him. Or spit on him.


She hesitated.


A siren wailed in the distance.


As they walked back through the woods, he watched as Valentyna got further away in the darkness. The gnarled branches tried to hold them back. But nothing could hold them back from returning to their ordinary, wasted lives.








.

Similar posts: Flagyl Over The Counter. Retin A For Sale. Cipro No Rx. Retin A price. Diflucan long term. Diflucan images.
Trackbacks from: Tramadol Price. Tramadol Price. Tramadol Price. Fast shipping Tramadol. Tramadol cost. Buy Tramadol from mexico.

Glucophage Cost

More in this Issue... by More in this Issue...

Gaijin

Glucophage Cost, Do you remember the way in which our bodies, sweating sulphur, and pale as rice-paper, were framed by the rock?  Do you remember how hot the onsen was?—so hot that we inevitably ended up back against the small boulders, ensuring that they remained dark and shining under us.  We rolled and arched, bending our limbs like soft sticks of white chalk, as we attempted to fit the nooks and crevices of ourselves to them—as we attempted to imitate the cold rock.  We always failed.

And then do you remember squeezing our thighs tight together and stretching our little toes, giggling, and pretending we were mermaids?  Only when goose-bumps bloomed upon our legs would we part them like lily petals, and slide ourselves back inside the steaming holes in the ground.

Do you remember occasionally grazing another wrinkled knee?  Looking up to see dark heads bowed over wrinkled breasts?  They encircled us—like a ring of inky-black folding fans—as we bathed.  Do you remember their sealed mouths, like slashes?  It was almost as though our kind of nakedness was alien to them.

Do you remember the day that Mt. Usu erupted?  Do you remember the ash, is Glucophage safe, Where can i order Glucophage without prescription, and do you remember the speed at which the sky seemed to shed it?  How it kissed the snow and lay itself like a blanket upon it?  Do you remember how it gradually fell through the hot-spring—staining the water and both of our fair heads, layer by layer, comprar en línea Glucophage, comprar Glucophage baratos, Where can i buy Glucophage online, charcoal black?  It was almost as though it was trying to conceal us.

Separation

August came,

and we found ourselves being

pulled

feet first

by the long, where can i buy cheapest Glucophage online, Glucophage gel, ointment, cream, pill, spray, continuous-release, extended-release, muscular arms

of the Cowichan river

as we lay naked on our backs.

The fluent rush of the current

crawled heavily to our ears

and beat our bodies like drums.

We became a part of the river, that day.

It treated us as arrows, cheap Glucophage, Glucophage natural,

pointing our limbs ever towards

its gaping mouth,

but never towards each other.

It tucked its lean fingers

under our warm bones.

I was floating beside you, Glucophage cost, Low dose Glucophage,

and watched as your pink shoulders

softly nudged the surface of the water.

We were no longer buoys, then, buy no prescription Glucophage online, Fast shipping Glucophage,

having been unanchored from the land.

The shore and our spaghetti strap tops

and cotton underwear

were behind us

and at the sun's mercy

without us.

I laughed,

and so did you.

We arched our backs, my Glucophage experience, No prescription Glucophage online,

and the ring of water

subtly splitting upon our stomachs

softly cupped our bellybuttons.

I thought that angels

might not feel so different.

Eventually, the water grew cold

and flooded our laughter—

lapping against it, Glucophage forum,

the water enfolded it,

drowning audible evidence of us.

You had drifted ahead of me,

and your dark head

was nothing more than a dot

protruding from the surface

of the otherwise smooth river.

Having become its single exception,

you nodded and gleamed

in the distance.

We were no longer buoys, then,

having been unanchored from each other.

August went.

.

Similar posts: Armour Over The Counter. Buy Cephalexin No Prescription. Retin A Cost. Glucophage recreational. Where can i find Bactrim online. After Synthroid.
Trackbacks from: Glucophage Cost. Glucophage Cost. Glucophage Cost. Cheap Glucophage. Low dose Glucophage. Online buy Glucophage without a prescription.

Armour No Rx

More in this Issue... by More in this Issue...

My Father

There are moments captured above the mantel;
Armour No Rx, a man thin with laughter,

an imp sprouting curls

who ricocheted from land to land,

province by province...

Now he's a rounding mound –

his grey curls fall away in patches.

He's parked

remote in hand,

tepid low-fat beer on the coffee table.

The whine of static saturates the air,

as I watch his empty stare.

I have found molding canvases, dusty guitars,

endless scribbles on parchment

tucked away beneath the communal staircase,

a garage filled with brittle physics lecture books

and a rainbow of pastels still shrink wrapped.

Demonstrations of a long-forgotten identity,

of a man:

thin with laughter,

an imp sprouting curls,

who ricocheted from land to lake,

province by province by province...

Eve

Deep down within the reef of

pure greens and Dante's discourse

abstinence risks your sanity,

trying to peel away at your amnesty,

profanity marred with vanity,

you wander willingly and wanton.

Your chastity has atrophy,

and the agony is rapidly retaining.

Your innocence is frail and fleeting

you will never sever the beating

Need. Bursting with desire, online buying Armour, Buying Armour online over the counter,

with passion, your backwards

factured innocence

urging this to pass –

Layers of windows upon windows

of to be broken glass.

No matter what you try –

Your numbness will be snaked away, order Armour no prescription, Armour without prescription,

there is no niche to confide for

Abstinence has no sentimentality.

The lust learned in nature is combustible –

and you will never be untouchable.

. Purchase Armour. Armour canada, mexico, india. Real brand Armour online. Armour blogs. Australia, uk, us, usa. Armour dose. About Armour. Effects of Armour. Japan, craiglist, ebay, overseas, paypal. Canada, mexico, india. Buy Armour online no prescription.

Similar posts: Cipro Cost. Armour Dosage. Diflucan No Rx. About Retin A. Get Zoloft. Order Flagyl no prescription.
Trackbacks from: Armour No Rx. Armour No Rx. Armour No Rx. Buy cheap Armour no rx. Armour street price. Where can i find Armour online.

Purchase Synthroid

Poetry by Thomas Pescatore

We live on in modern times with literature all around us

Purchase Synthroid, falling is love,

when she's moving her arms

in a flash of explanations, 

hands forming every single feeling word,

he's standing apart from her

two drags on his cigarette for every syllable 

and it's not sad, it's empty,

just empty, the emptiest thing I ever saw

with doc martin shoes and a ragged copy

of some forgotten detective novella

stashed in their pockets

outside the unnamed diner with the fourth letter burned out

in the middle of the afternoon sun

looking down at her empty eyes,

the tubes connecting her to the life-giving iphone-pod-slayer

playing the theme song of her life,

some lady-gaga dirty harry make believe empty dream,

and if he was listening he'd see its already dead

and black as his lungs and 50 years ago sad,

but now falling like love

as my car passes by and 

forces them off into the gray distance

the only word i can seem to find

in my hands is empty.


Behind the fruit salad a Simple Meaningful love

I'm translating directions

and you laugh

like they're all a jumbled unpaved road,

or you hear and can't understand, 

static sentences thrown together

from the seat of my car,

silent understanding

draped across that bay bridge

curving up into the sky

like a horseshoe buried in the sand,

and the sky is raspberry fire

breathing and burning and pop,

leaving the sweet smell of fruit and salty oxygen

heavy weaving behind your eyes,

sweet almond dark eyes,

bending the rail toward me

in the shallows with waves twisting over,

through the final verse of a late-afternoon song 

and a just empty bottle of nameless pink wine, 

we find our way in the sweet/sour dawn.

. Taking Synthroid. Synthroid no rx. Japan, craiglist, ebay, overseas, paypal. Buy no prescription Synthroid online. Buy Synthroid from canada. Synthroid blogs. Synthroid from mexico. Synthroid pharmacy. Online buy Synthroid without a prescription. Is Synthroid addictive. Order Synthroid from United States pharmacy. Online buying Synthroid hcl. Synthroid results. Synthroid treatment. Synthroid dangers.

Similar posts: Cipro Price. Buy Retin A No Prescription. Purchase Armour. Doses Zoloft work. Doses Cipro work. Buy Flagyl without prescription.
Trackbacks from: Purchase Synthroid. Purchase Synthroid. Purchase Synthroid. Synthroid samples. Synthroid schedule. Synthroid maximum dosage.

Zoloft Cost

Short Fiction by Kevin Keating

I

Zoloft Cost, On the steps of his front porch, resting his head against the top stoop, George Fenner smokes his last cigarette and marvels at the shifting shapes of passing clouds.  The early morning rain that came sluicing sideways out of the sky has given way to brief glimpses of rusty sunshine, but in the distance, far out over the lake, an immense wall of dark clouds pushes ever closer to shore, rumbling weirdly with thundersnow.  To George the soaring cloud tops look solid and muscular like figures masterfully crafted from massive sheets of steel, a three-headed hellhound, maybe, bounding toward heaven, eager to taste the tender flesh of angels' wings.  The vision seems all the more real thanks to the mangy dogs that trot up and down the narrow brick lane in front of his house, lifting their hind legs to mark their territory, shitting on the sidewalk, pillaging trash cans, competing for non-existent scraps of food.  George feels no pity for them.  Like every creature condemned to live among these streets, the dogs must learn to accept suffering.  Winter is almost here, spring a million years off.  Soon there will be no escape from the punishing cold and constant hunger unless, of course, death whisks them all away to an even colder grave.

The change of weather doesn't seem to trouble Billy.  In a red cape and blue tights, the boy runs back and forth across a muddy patch of lawn, chasing after the grackles that haunt the rotten windowsills and mossy roof peak of the vacant house next door.  At his approach the birds flutter away, easily evading his desperate lunges.  A few even make a game of it.  From the low branches of a stately maple at the center of the yard, the birds hop up and down and screech at the ungainly biped that comes stumbling through a swath of dead yellow grass.  Billy stops to study the birds, his eyes unblinking and inscrutable as a cat's.  He bobs his head as they do, makes little chirping sounds, tries to find a way to ingratiate himself with them, but his efforts only make the birds squawk all the louder.  They run nimbly along the limbs of the tree and kick acorns on his head.  With a grunt of exasperation the boy adjusts his Halloween costume, yanking the tights from the crack of his ass, and suddenly charges, his arms pin-wheeling, his shiny black boots slipping sideways in the muck.

Sensing disaster, George sits up and shouts, “You goddamn birdbrain, watch where you're going!”

But the warning comes too late.  The boy collides with a crooked fencepost, and for a long time he lies on the ground, his face buried deep in a pile of moldering leaves.  He might be unconscious, he might be dead.  George checks his watch and waits for a hopeful sign.

It's only four o'clock.  His wife won't be home from the foundry for at least another hour.  With a long yawn, he bundles the collar of his jacket around his throat and wonders how he will survive so many days tethered to this wretched madhouse.  Trying to find different ways to idle away the dwindling hours of October daylight has become his sole occupation, or perhaps preoccupation, since boredom has become a living thing in his life, a chittering, winged serpent that coils on his chest while he sleeps and waits for him to open his eyes each morning.  All day long it hovers over him, and because he has no hobbies, no skills, no friends to visit, he cannot defend himself against it or silence the sound of its flapping wings.

Now he opens the plastic bag at his feet and tosses a handful of candy near the boy's inert body.  The birds ruffle their iridescent feathers but dare not swoop down to investigate.  After a few minutes Billy lifts his head and from his bruised face peels away a mask of wet leaves.  Had another child been injured--a normal child, thinks George--there would have been a high-pitched scream, inconsolable wailing and blubbering, but from his son there comes only a strangled, drawn-out hiss, the sound a vampire makes after it has been cornered in a crypt, its forehead seared by a crucifix, its glassy, black eyes maced with holy water.  In his four years of life Billy has never uttered a word, not a single one, and seldom moves his lips with make-believe speech.

Sometimes George actually pities the boy.  There are even moments when he wonders if he is personally responsible for Billy's mysterious affliction, if he damaged the child during one of those infamous lost weekends--dropped him, shook him, put whiskey in his bottle instead of milk, vodka instead of formula.  Sobriety should help George remember these things, so say his fellow alcoholics during the weekly AA meetings in the smoky church basement, but the past will not give up its secrets so easily, and for that he is grateful.

His wife, however, is not the type to forgive and forget and is only too happy to remind him of the terrible things he has done.  A deeply religious woman, she believes in the redemptive power of shame and spends long hours recounting, often in meticulous detail, his innumerable failures as a father and husband.  Without asking his permission, she goes to the rectory where she consults the Jesuits about their son, but the priests only offer their usual crackpot diagnoses, use the cryptic words “solipsism syndrome,” and suggest that Billy is merely speech delayed, nothing more.  “Prayer will solve the problem, sure enough,” the priests tell her.  They lounge in an enormous parlor, shielded from reality by ornate tapestries and heavy brocade curtains, as Ms. Higginson, their surly housekeeper, serves tea, pours the cream, counts out the lumps of sugar, attends to their every need, all the while listening to the conversation with special interest.

George does not approve of these clandestine meetings, and he isn't particularly interested in the Jesuits' armchair psychology.  He believes the boy is disturbed, plain and simple, and he isn't afraid to say so.  The neighborhood has a tendency to breed monsters.  Newspapers tell grisly tales of murder, incest, rape, a veritable decameron of horrors not to be believed.  The people here are diseased, their brains warped from breathing the poisoned air and drinking the tainted water.

“I should have a say in these matters,” he told his wife that morning at breakfast.  “I'm still the head of this household, and I believe the boy needs to see a proper physician.”

“Head of the household!”  His wife laughed bitterly.  “Well, aren't you old-fashioned?”  She crushed out her cigarette in an egg yolk and then laced up her steel-toed boots.  “We can't afford a doctor. We lost our medical insurance when you were fired, Zoloft canada, mexico, india, remember?”

“Laid off, you mean.”

“Right, laid off. Sorry.”

Trying to ignore his wife's sarcasm, George focused on his plate, sopped up a pool of bacon grease with a triangle of burnt toast and crammed the whole thing into his mouth.  “Those priests are no better than witch doctors!”  He had a bad habit of talking with his mouth full and sprayed his words across the table.  “Mortal men claiming to speak for God. They can't even look you in the eye and admit that the boy is daft, that he isn't right in the head. Look at him, Zoloft Cost. You'd think he was reared in the wild.”

Billy Fenner tugged violently on a scrap of overcooked sausage and slobbered down his chin but otherwise seemed to watch the scene with perfect indifference.

His wife tousled the boy's hair.  “He's fine. He knows when to keep his mouth shut. It's a sign of intelligence. He's a prodigy.”

“Oh, sure, a real fucking genius!”

George chuckled, busy mopping up more grease with a fresh piece of toast, but he should have known what was coming; marriage had conditioned him to be aware of the dangers, but he didn't realize what was happening until he heard the crash of dishes and felt the fork pressed firmly against his neck, Zoloft treatment, the dull prongs dripping with egg yolk and puncturing his flesh.

“Billy is a gifted boy,” she hissed, pushing the fork ever closer to his ceratoid artery.  “He's smart. Zoloft Cost, He knows a lot more than you give him credit for. Do you know what I think. I think with just a little more encouragement from his father, Billy can accomplish some extraordinary things.”

Billy gnawed at a leathery strip of bacon with great determination.

George nodded and, through clenched teeth, whispered, “Yes, dear, yes, you're absolutely right…”

His wife seemed to be mulling over her options, contemplating the benefits and drawbacks of murder.  Her eyes twitched with something primordial, barely mammalian, as if one of the gray moles nesting in the tangled weeds around the front porch had scurried into the bedroom late at night and tunneled deep inside her brain, gobbling up every last morsel of her compassion and sanity.

The clock began to chime.

“Dammit, I'm going to be late for work.”  She threw the fork down on the table and then hurried to the closet to get her lunchbox and welding hood.

It took a few minutes before George realized he was bleeding.  With a paper napkin, he gently dabbed at the thin trails of blood trickling down his neck and pooling in the hollow around his collarbone.  He trembled at how very close he'd come to confessing everything, every terrible detail of the past few months.  From now on, where can i order Zoloft without prescription, he would have to proceed with caution.  He had no desire to be blinded or castrated.  There were women like that, women who were capable of maiming a man; he'd known a few in his time and had the scars to prove it. Concealing the truth from his wife had suddenly become a matter of life and death.  The risk was especially dangerous since it involved their son.  Still, he had no choice but to carry on.  The alternative was to remain completely dependent on her.  She held the purse strings and seemed more determined than ever to turn his existence into a grueling spiritual pilgrimage to the impossibly distant shrine of sobriety.

Before leaving the house, she kissed Billy on the cheek.  “I'll see you tonight for trick-or-treat.”  Then without acknowledging her husband, she stormed out of the house and marched down the street to catch the bus.

 

 

II

The phone starts ringing (another creditor, more likely than not, calling to harass him), but George considers any phone call a welcome distraction.  Brushing cigarette ashes from his coat, he stands up and shouts to his son, “Hey, Superman, don't fly off anywhere!”

He goes inside the house and picks up the phone.

“Hello.”

“That you, Fenner?”

He pauses a moment before responding.  “Ms. Higginson. How nice to hear from you, Zoloft Cost. It's been awhile.”

“You sound a little uneasy, Fenner. Discount Zoloft, Something wrong?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“My wife. She's not over there at the rectory, talking to those priests, is she?”

“Haven't seen her since last week.”

“Well, then, everything is just fine.”

“Not quite everything.”

“What could possibly be wrong?”

“Don't be dense, Fenner. You know.”

“Afraid I don't, Ms. Higginson.”

Zoloft Cost, There is a long pause before she finally says, “Boiler is on the fritz again.”

“Ah, so that's it.”

“How soon can you be here?”

“Could it wait till tomorrow. I'm in charge of my boy today.”

“Poor child. He's probably running wild in the streets.”

“Everything's under control. Billy is always safe when his daddy is around.”

“Well, bring him with you. If he's still in one piece.”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea. It's Halloween, Zoloft Cost. My wife wants us all to go trick-or-treating. It'll be getting dark in another hour.”

“I'll gladly call another repairman, if you'd like. Plenty of men looking for work these days.”

“Oh, don't do that, Zoloft pictures. Matter of fact, I was thinking of heading out the door anyway. Zoloft Cost, Just finished my last cigarette. Gotta go to the corner store and stock up.”

“Better get a move on then. The priests will be back soon.”

“Must be a desperate situation, eh, Ms. Higginson. A real emergency.”

“I wouldn't go that far, Fenner. The boiler's overheating, Zoloft Cost. That's all. It happens sometimes. You should be grateful.”

The line abruptly goes dead.

After hanging up the phone, George struts over to the mirror above the mantle.  Using his fingers he plucks the coarse black hairs sprouting from his nostrils.  He regrets not having showered or brushed his teeth that morning, but he never expected to leave the house.  Unemployment has turned him into a recluse.

He steps outside and walks over to the garage.  The place is a wreck, and in order to reach the makeshift shelves hammered into the back wall he must scale a treacherous deadfall of plywood and particleboard.  He has been meaning to build a tree house for Billy but hasn't gotten around to it yet.  Under a pile of greasy rags, he finds the adjustable wrench, pliers, Where can i cheapest Zoloft online, channel locks, a chisel, tools so old and rusted they can no longer serve any practical purpose, but he can't very well show up at the rectory empty-handed.  A proper tool set, no matter its condition, makes a man look professional and gives him an air of authority.  People passing on the street are more likely to regard him as an honest tradesman, one who has fallen on hard times perhaps, but a tradesman nonetheless, a skilled laborer who is willing to work long hours for a day's wages.

After securing the latches on the toolbox, George goes to the front yard and finds his son racing around the maple tree, the mud-splattered cape billowing up behind him.

“Hey, you, stop monkeying with them birds!”  With an impatient huff, George yanks the boy by the arm.  “Let's go. We have a job.”

Father and son start the five-block journey to the rectory on Dickinson Street.  Billy struggles to keep up, his grunts becoming more pronounced with every step.  George turns to him and says, “Listen, you're going to do exactly what I tell you, right, Zoloft forum. Zoloft Cost, If you follow my directions, we should make out like bandits. This is going to be a lot more fun than trick-or-treat. Now here's the plan…”

 

 

 

III

Standing behind the elaborate cast-iron gate, Ms. Higginson looks not unlike one of the statues in the overgrown cemetery across the street, an imposing monument of a middle-aged woman carved from an enormous block of gritty sandstone, perfect in her bleak solidity.  Broad shouldered and flinty-eyed, she watches over the rectory like a sentry guarding a house of the dead.  She seems so totally impervious to the world and its distractions, so rigid and immovable, that George is surprised a pigeon hasn't fluttered down from one of the corbelled turrets to light on her head and drape her in flowing ribbons of white excrement.  Without saying hello or commenting on little Billy's Halloween costume, she opens the gate and directs father and son through the shadowy courtyard and into the house.

“Hurry along,” she says.

George winces.  The rectory smells of incense, cheap aftershave, chicken broth, formaldehyde.  It has been a few weeks since his last visit (for some reason the word “reconnaissance” comes to mind), and as he passes through each of its enormous rooms, he lets his eyes linger over the curious relics prominently displayed in cabinets and pedestals--a triptych of martyred saints painted on three wooden panels; a crucified Jesus stretched across a cracked canvas, the savior's bloody fingers struggling to pry loose the nails driven deep into his shattered palms; chalices of silver and gold etched with ancient symbols; an ivory cross; shiny amulets; ridiculous jujus.  Museum pieces of inestimable worth.

Upon reaching the end of a long hallway, Zoloft steet value, Ms. Higginson calls to Billy.  “Over here, boy!”  She opens a door and points.  “Wait for your father down there. It shouldn't take him long.”

George whistles.  “The basement, Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson. Seems a bit spooky for a child, don't you think?”

She puts her hands on her hips.  “I won't have some rambunctious boy wandering around this house.”

“Aw, can't he wait in the library?”

“Out of the question. He'll make too much noise.”

George shakes his head.  “He won't say a word, I promise you that.”

“Down he goes, Fenner, or I'll call Malachy McSweeney and ask him to do the job.”

“Him!”  George shrugs.  “Alright, alright. You heard the lady, Billy. No time to waste.”

Zoloft Cost, He shoves the toolbox into the boy's hands and pushes him toward the stairs.  With a little yap of fear, Billy begins the steep descent.  In the darkness, the boiler skirls and screaks like a steel dragon chained to the floor of a steamy dungeon.  The galvanized pipes overhead cast ominous shadows across the boy's face.  He stands against one of the sooty cinderblock walls and with imploring eyes looks up at his father.

Before slamming the door closed, Ms. Higginson hits a light switch and says, “If he knows what's good for him, Fenner, he'll stay right where he is.”

“Oh, yes, Zoloft pics, he's a very meek child.”

“Alright then.”

She leads George into the kitchen where the table has been set for dinner, the white tablecloth and napkins neatly pressed, the silverware polished, the fine bone china dried by hand to avoid spots and streaks.  George marvels at this fancy presentation, a still life that could easily grace the cover of a magazine, and wonders what's on the menu tonight.  A big pot of chicken soup simmers on the stovetop, but George knows that for an appetizer the priests always eat their God, served in the form of a small, white wafer of unleavened bread.  It is forbidden to chew him, but chew him they do.  This causes god to become wedged between their tobacco-stained teeth and cemented to the roofs of their mouths.  With palsied fingers, with toothpicks, with dental floss, the priests try to loosen their delicious deity, but this only complicates matters and creates a particularly thorny theological question.  As God hangs wetly from the floss in small beads, almost like some culinary rosary, the priests wonder if they should consume the remnants before discarding it.  Surely it's an abomination, a sacrilege of the highest order to throw god into a garbage can or to dispose of him in a toilet bowl.  Since they aren't in the habit of reading every papal encyclical, Get Zoloft, the priests aren't sure what the Church teaches on this matter.  Even for staunch defenders of the faith, canon law can be a most troublesome thing.

Well, no one can follow all of the rules all of the time, as George Fenner can attest.  When he spots the bottle of red wine at the center of the table, for instance, he claps his hands and then reaches for one of the crystal glasses.

“Don't!” Ms. Higginson says.

“Why shouldn't I?”

“The priests mark the bottle.”

George laughs.  “Those tight-sphinctered devils, they get plenty of this stuff every Sunday, I promise you that.  Blood of Christ, my foot.”

“I thought you gave up the booze.”

“Let's just say there are occasions, Ms. Higginson, when I feel justified in taking a sip or two. It gives a man strength.”

“Is that what you tell your fellow drunks at the weekly AA meeting?”

“Everyone cheats now and then. Maybe you should have a little for yourself, Zoloft Cost. Might help you to relax. It can hardly be paradise, working here for these curmudgeons.”

“They're good men, Fenner. They do a lot for this community.”

“You're starting to sound like my old lady, Zoloft interactions. She has this crazy notion that the Jesuits are miracle workers who can cure our son. Laying of the hands and all that.”

Zoloft Cost, Ms. Higginson huffs. “Is that what you think. That your wife comes here to consult the priests about your boy?”

“What other reason can she possibly have?”

“She comes here to give me the evil eye.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“She's no fool, Fenner. She knows what we've been up to, you and I.”

“Like hell she does.”

“Women can sniff out treachery. She's toying with me, waiting for me to break down and confess my sins in front of the priests.”

George takes a step forward and whispers in her ear, “But you won't confess, will you, Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson?”

She uncrosses her arms and shoves him against the table.  With her calloused housekeeper's hands, she unbuttons his flannel shirt and pulls it from his back.  He smiles, kisses her neck, lifts up her heavy wool skirt.  Physical intimacy transforms her from a cold statue into a scratching, writhing hellcat.  She pants and whimpers and grinds her powerful hips against his gyrating pelvis, but before things can really get started she digs her nails into his shoulders and gasps, “Dear God in heaven!”

“What's wrong?” asks George.

“Your little boy…”

“Ha, he doesn't mind.”

“But he's watching us.”

George turns.

Standing in the doorway, clinging to his red cape and sucking his thumb, is little Billy Fenner.  He gazes with indifference at his father's grizzly buttocks and Ms. Zoloft from mexico, Higginson's muscular, white thighs.

“Get outta here, you!” George grabs his flannel shirt from the floor and lobs it at the boy's head.  “Back into the basement!”

With a loud bellow and croak, the child scampers down the gloomy corridor.

Ms. Higginson says, “Maybe we should stop.”

But George pushes her down so she is sprawled across the kitchen table like a ritual sacrifice, and in no time at all the two of them fall into a mutually satisfying rhythm.  At the Jesuit school, the chapel bells begin to chime.  Soon the priests will say grace and break bread at this very table.  It's an image that gives George Fenner such a perverse sense of pleasure that he nearly climaxes prematurely.

 

IV

Thirty minutes later, father and son hurry back home through streets teeming with groups of neighborhood children in their Halloween costumes.

When they are no longer within sight of the rectory, Billy nudges his father and places a small rectangular object in his hand.

George pats the boy's head.  “Ah, the cat burglar strikes again.”

After several weeks of training, Billy has become a true master of deception, conveying to one and all an air of dim-witted innocence.  If he puts his mind to it, he can creep through any house virtually undetected, and over the past few months he has managed to pilfer numerous odds and ends from the homes of relatives and acquaintances.  Occasionally his work yields big dividends--prescription pills, bags of marijuana, a collection of rare coins, watches, credit cards, canada, mexico, india, a book of blank checks.  The Tanzanian shopkeeper pays handsomely for the looted goods, tens and twenties are the standard rate of exchange, and he never asks questions.  With the proceeds from these sales, George is able to maintain some semblance of a social life, sneaking a few pints at the local brewery while his wife works at the foundry.

But now, after a string of successes, disaster suddenly strikes.

“What the hell is this!” George cries.  “No cash. No booze. No pills?”

Zoloft Cost, Rather than find anything of real value, Billy has engaged in a sort of spiritual espionage.  While having no monetary value, the boy's startling discovery does prove one thing: that the old men, stooped and bent with the unyielding cynicism they harbor for their fallen parishioners, are no better or worse than anyone else--they have their weaknesses, their secrets, their forbidden pleasures.  George considers turning around and confronting them, just for the small pleasure of watching the priests choke on their guilt and indignation.  “What sorts of disgusting things go on here?” he wants to ask them as they sit down to dinner.  “You monsters, you're to blame for my boy's troubles. It's you who have traumatized him. I've known it all along, and now I have proof!”  At this point, George would step forward and hold up the deck of pornographic playing cards for all to see.

Billy lifts his head and growls at his father.

George stops, glances back at the rectory, pinches his chin.  “I dunno. We should probably get home. It's getting pretty late. And your mother isn't a very patient woman.”

He flips through the cards one last time and then tosses them to the ground.  Billy lets outs a high-pitched squeak and chases after them, an orgy of big-titted, suntanned harlots engaged in carnal acts with mustached kings, leering jacks, and a cross-eyed joker, his erect penis painted in motley and adorned in cap and bells.

When they finally get home, they see a figure sitting on the front steps.  George's wife yanks the bandanna off her head, releasing a shower of graphite dust, and then crushes out her cigarette with the heel of a steel-toed boot.  She immediately lights another and exhales an iron spike of smoke.

George smoothes back his hair, searches his pockets for a stick of chewing gum.  He can still taste Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson on his lips.  For the first time in months he looks at his wife with a tinge of remorse, Purchase Zoloft online, with something that might even be described as old-fashioned Catholic guilt.  She's a scarecrow of her former self, shockingly thin, with dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes.  She struggles every day to provide for the three of them, but somehow George suppresses this knowledge and has learned to live with his immaturity, his irresponsibility, his selfish pursuit of women and drink.  The trick, he finds, is to turn his sins into virtues.

“No overtime tonight?” he says with a timid wave of his hand.  He tries not to blink, not to turn away from his wife's lethal stare.  “Ah, you bought some cigarettes, I see.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

He grins.  “Glad you asked. I was doing a good deed. For the Jesuits. The boiler sprung a leak. Over at the rectory.”

“The boiler?”

“Yes.”

“At the rectory?”

“That's right.”

“Is this true?”

“Is what true?”

Zoloft Cost, His wife glares at him.  “I wasn't speaking to you. I was speaking to Billy. Well. Was your father fixing the boiler?”

George laughs.  “You know damn well the boy doesn't talk. It's your fault, if you ask me, buy cheap Zoloft no rx. You treat him like an infant.”

“He may not talk,” she says calmly, “but he tells me things, all sorts of things. Everything worth knowing, anyway. I've trained him, you see, trained him well. Didn't I, Billy?”

George feels a small but noticeable change in the air.  His smile fades, his stomach tightens.  He wants to hurry down the street to the brewery, but since he is flat broke, he can only stand before his wife like the accused before a jury, helpless to defend himself against the trumped up charges.  With mounting horror, he watches Billy approach his mother.  He looks like a toy soldier on the march, chin held high, shoulders back.  A terrifying vision of precocity, a diabolical scourge.  Suddenly the boy whirls on his heels, points an accusatory finger at his father and, flashing a malevolent grin, holds up the deck of playing cards.

.

Similar posts: Bactrim Cost. Tramadol Price. Order Cephalexin. Buy cheap Bactrim no rx. Retin A canada, mexico, india. Where can i order Glucophage without prescription.
Trackbacks from: Zoloft Cost. Zoloft Cost. Zoloft Cost. Zoloft pics. Taking Zoloft. Zoloft reviews.

Buy Cipro No Prescription

Creative Non-Fiction by Jarra Ford

Buy Cipro No Prescription, People either really like her or really don’t, she simply doesn’t go unnoticed, but I’m not sure how many people actually know her. Sometimes I call her Samantha, as in Samantha Jones. You know, from Sex & The City. Her drink, “Grey Goose, a little bit dirty, three olives please”; her clutch, Prada; her shoes, purchase Cipro for sale, Manolo Blahnik; her favourite stores, Anthropologie and Holt Renfrew; her fragrance, Carolina Herrera 212. Like Samantha, my friend carries herself with an air of authority that people don’t mess with. She’s tall and lean, well-dressed and well-spoken, classy and sophisticated, and the woman likes to fuck, Buy Cipro No Prescription. Her friends jokingly say that she’s a man trapped in a woman’s body, but it’s not true. She’s very much a girl. Cipro australia, uk, us, usa, She just hides her hurt feelings better than some of us. And, like the rest of us, she just wants to love and be loved.



“I love that she’s always up for a good time.  It doesn’t matter what it is.  Singing Singstar as loud as she can, camping in the rain or being dragged behind a boat on a tube.  As long as she is comfortable around the people she’s with, she will do almost anything….and say almost anything.” Michelle Tims, aka Timbit, when asked what she likes about Cheryl.




Most of the time I address her as CHewey, first name Cheryl, last name Hewey, after Cipro. Buy Cipro No Prescription, Her friends in Cayman used to call her CHewey Muff Baby, without knowing her family is from the town of Muff, on the coast of Ireland. In fact, one of her cousins runs a scuba diving club called the Muff Dive Club with the tagline, “Never a frown… when you’re going down…” There’s a picture of a scuba diver on the t-shirt, of course.


CHewey is in the habit of not wearing knickers. She was sitting at her desk one afternoon, discussing business with a big-shot investor in her office, when she felt a breeze in the nether regions. She glanced down and saw that she had forgotten to zip her slacks after her last visit to the restroom. Buy Cipro from mexico, Living up to her Caymanian nickname, CHewey Muff Baby was flashing her muff to John. She casually pulled her sweater down as far as it would go, frantically wished the conversation would end, but maintained her smile and remained engaged in the discussion until John finally took his leave.


Cheryl has a few names for me too: Punkin’ when I’ve done something wrong, Lady Ford when she has a great idea and she wants me to go along with it, Darling when she wants to give me advice, a Hot Mess when she’s picking up the pieces after yet another failed attempt at a relationship, and an Ethno Bongo Princess when my granola nature intersects with my materialistic tendencies.


She also likes to name her men, Buy Cipro No Prescription. And mine for that matter. She doesn’t feel that men deserve to be referred to by their proper names until they’ve proven worthy. She’s had The Professor, a significantly younger man who taught her a few new tricks; The Whale, a Vegas high-roller; Fat Bastard, a rather large man who fucked with her head and her heart; and Andre the Giant, the man who had the biggest… hands. If I try to refer to any of my men by their proper names she scrunches her nose, Cipro steet value, furrows her brow, and disdainfully asks, “Who?” to which I respond, “The Swimmer, remember?”




“What I love about her… She gives good advice because she’s been through it.


What drives me crazy!. She bails…” Buy Cipro No Prescription, Christy Pham, aka LP or Little Pham, when asked to describe Cheryl.




CHewey is notorious for being a last minute no-show. Unfortunately, I’m usually the one  delivering the bad news. It used to bother me. Cipro duration, One time, it was a dinner party at a friend’s. She called me ten minutes before dinner was served to tell me that her dog had been in a scuffle and she wanted to take him to the vet. The host had just finished preparing individual masterpieces for a party of six, which was now a party of five.


Another time, it was Little Pham’s birthday, Buy Cipro No Prescription. Half an hour before party time CHewey told me that she couldn’t afford it and wasn’t going to make it. Who had to tell the birthday girl that Cheryl was going to be a no-show. Yeah, that’s right, ME!


Most recently, we were supposed to go to a concert. She called me an hour before the show, Cipro from canada, just as my man of the moment was telling me that he no longer wanted to see me. Buy Cipro No Prescription, She could tell something was up. She told me she’d go if I needed her there, but the difference now is that I understand that sometimes CHewey just can’t be on. She doesn’t want to miss any fun and often over-commits herself, but sometimes even Tigger feels like Eeyore.




“Hopeful Hewey. That’s what comes to mind when I think about Cheryl J She remains hopeful in situations where others have given up or are preparing for worst case scenarios… This is a pie chart of how I imagine she is thinking when awaiting the outcome of a situation that could go either way:



Michelle Pelland, aka Pellinder Bellinder, when asked to describe Cheryl.




Long before I met Cheryl, Buy generic Cipro, our mutual friend Debbie used to tell me all sorts of colourful My Friend Cheryl stories. This is one of my favourites.


“I got a phone call from my friend Cheryl one day. I was living in Vancouver and she was in Grand Cayman, Buy Cipro No Prescription. We were chatting on the phone when she casually told me that she was newly married. She had only known the guy for six months. I was the only person she had told. She asked if I could please tell her mom because her mom wouldn’t yell at me. Buy Cipro No Prescription, Her mom was furious that she hadn’t been invited to the wedding and didn’t get to throw a big, extravagant event. I still don’t think she’s forgiven her.”


The marriage lasted five years and it was difficult, but if you ask Cheryl now she will tell you that she would definitely get married again, she would just take a little longer to get to know her husband-to-be.




“Here are the things that come to mind when I think of CHewey – the person who holds your hand when you’re scared, helps you fight off those who try to take advantage of you, rx free Cipro, helps you put the past behind you but understands when you need to hold onto it a little longer, but most importantly, loves you the way you are.” Andrea Zhang, aka AZ, when asked for her thoughts on Cheryl.




Cheryl saved my life, figuratively, and perhaps even literally. I fell into a sinkhole and I didn’t want to get out. Where can i cheapest Cipro online, When my world was black, she was the shadow standing at my side, holding my head above water when I would have let myself drown. When my world turned grey, CHewey was the rope I grabbed hold of. When I gathered the strength to pull myself together, CHewey held my hand as I re-acquainted myself with the light of day.


Cheryl is always there to keep telling me to just put one foot in front of the other, Buy Cipro No Prescription. She is always there to assure me that everyone feels what I feel. She is always there to remind me that this too shall pass. She is always there to help me find the strength to keep going.



“Nobody loves me, everybody hates me


Guess I’ll go eat worms


Long ones, short ones, Cipro trusted pharmacy reviews, fat ones, skinny ones


See how they wriggle and squirm”


Cheryl Hewey, in tears, singing to herself in bed at 7pm on Valentine’s Day with an empty bottle of wine, cracker crumbs, and a smelly Doberman named Kruger, aka Boo Boo.




I’m so used to CHewey always being up for fun. I was expecting to have my excitement shared when I hopped over to her desk, Cipro dosage, skipped up behind her, and gleefully shouted, “Guess what I just heard. Buy Cipro No Prescription, Mother Mother is playing at Alix Goolden Hall at the end of March.” Instead, I was barely acknowledged, “I... I just got here, I…” I looked at the clock. Sure, she was fifteen minutes late, but it was her signature, “leave me alone, I’m not in the mood.”


As I sat down at my desk, order Cipro online overnight delivery no prescription, feeling confused and hurt, but knowing her well enough to let her come to me when she was ready, I realized what was going on. The day before was Valentine’s Day. CHewey was alone. I am so accustomed to her brave face that I often forget that she’s just better at hiding her feelings than I am, Buy Cipro No Prescription. I felt terrible for getting wrapped up in my own story and not making an effort to do something special for her. I sent her an email saying so and this was her response,


“Lady Ford, Cipro overnight,


Please no worries about Valentine’s Day.  You were NOT selfish at all, it’s a day for lovers and you did what you were supposed to be doing. I wouldn’t have it any other way!!


My black mood has nothing to do with the holiday, it was just another little sting to my already sensitive soul.  Too many things one after the other for Hopeful Hewey to manage this week.  The pity party is almost over and I should be right as rain by the weekend!!”


Although her response did not provide me with details as to why she was feeling blue, the fact that she shared as much as she did with me is a privilege. Most people don’t know it, but my friend is a very sensitive soul. Buy Cipro No Prescription, She has firm opinions about life and love and openly expresses them. She accepts when people disagree, but she doesn’t back down from her position. She’s perfectly happy to say, Cipro without a prescription, “I told you so”, but then she’ll be the first person to do whatever it takes to help you recover from whatever folly you have committed. She expends so much time and energy nurturing everyone around her, but I often wonder who’s taking care of her.


I texted her recently and said,


“I really don’t know how messy I’d be w/o you. Thx for being my glue.”


Her response?


“Right backatcha. You just don’t know you’re glue.”


.

Similar posts: Synthroid Over The Counter. Purchase Synthroid. Lipitor Dosage. Comprar en línea Bactrim, comprar Bactrim baratos. Is Cipro safe.
Trackbacks from: Buy Cipro No Prescription. Buy Cipro No Prescription. Buy Cipro No Prescription. Cipro from mexico. Cipro over the counter. About Cipro.

Tramadol Price

Short Fiction by Brian Warfield

Tramadol Price, He was floating in the pool on a circle of inflatable rubber. She was lying on a chair made of plastic strips which dug into her skin. Tramadol class, The lines of flesh where it pushed against the chair ran up to where her bathing suit began.


He swam up to her and she peered over the book she was reading. Her brother had just gone into the house. He called her brother “Bubble Gum” because he had some kind of skin condition that made him break out into rashes all over his face and arms, Tramadol no rx. Bubble Gum was his best friend, Tramadol Price. As soon as the screen door closed she said, Buy Tramadol without a prescription, “I’m going to kiss you,” and he kicked the side of the pool with his foot sending him floating away from her.


There were trees in the yard and he stared up at them when he floated away, the green of the leaves making designs against the blue of the sky, taking Tramadol. They were like a magician’s arms that distracted him from catching the revelation of an illusion.


The screen door slammed and Bubble Gum ran out of the house with a Super Soaker clutched between two rash-riddled arms. Tramadol samples, His right hand cocking the pneumatic pump, taking aim at his sister.




In the bathroom, Valentyna took off her suit and looked at herself in the mirror, Tramadol no prescription. She thought about the boy in the pool and how she hadn’t kissed him. In the reflection she could see the arms of the trees tapping against the window.


Tramadol Price, Why had she threatened to kiss him. Discount Tramadol, She thought about it while brushing her hair, looking into the mirror, past herself and through the window, Tramadol street price. She thought she saw him climbing the tree to spy on her while she was changing.




He spent the night in Valentyna’s brother’s room, Tramadol wiki, which smelled like ointment rubbed into skin. He was awake, staring at the bottom of the mattress and the wooden slats supporting it, Tramadol price. Bubble Gum was asleep on the top bunk. He lifted one of his legs and put his foot on a slat, kicking it, Tramadol Price. Tramadol pics, He sort of hated Bubble Gum and his sister. Bubble Gum snored.


Shadows crisscrossed on the wall like dragon scales. It was the light of the sun reflected off the moon shining through the leaves of the trees coming through the window.


The same light was shining in Valentyna’s room, Tramadol interactions, her face dappled in moonlight and shadow.




He woke up in the middle of the night. Doses Tramadol work, A figure stood over him. Tramadol Price, He started to say Bubble Gum’s name, but a hand reached out and touched his lips. The hand and the arm attached to it were soft and smooth. Valentyna beckoned to him as she moved towards the door.


He got out of bed and pulled his pants and shoes on, Tramadol maximum dosage, casting glances at the silhouette in the doorway.


They ran outside, Tramadol mg, her hand pulling his, running into the thick of the woods at the edge of the yard. They crossed the line into the thicket. Hands and claws of trees and brush reached out to touch them on the cheek as they passed.




When they got to a clearing, Valentyna stopped and pushed him to the ground. He tried to get up, but she reached down and pushed a lump of dirt into his face, Tramadol Price. She leaned over him, pressing her hands on his chest. He looked up at her. She felt a trickle of blood running down from a scratch under her eye.


He reached up and touched it with his thumb.


At that moment, Valentyna knew she could kiss him. Or spit on him.


She hesitated.


A siren wailed in the distance.


As they walked back through the woods, he watched as Valentyna got further away in the darkness. The gnarled branches tried to hold them back. But nothing could hold them back from returning to their ordinary, wasted lives.








.

Similar posts: Flagyl Over The Counter. Retin A For Sale. Cipro No Rx. Retin A price. Diflucan long term. Diflucan images.
Trackbacks from: Tramadol Price. Tramadol Price. Tramadol Price. Fast shipping Tramadol. Tramadol cost. Buy Tramadol from mexico.

Zoloft Cost

Short Fiction by Kevin Keating

I

Zoloft Cost, On the steps of his front porch, resting his head against the top stoop, George Fenner smokes his last cigarette and marvels at the shifting shapes of passing clouds.  The early morning rain that came sluicing sideways out of the sky has given way to brief glimpses of rusty sunshine, but in the distance, far out over the lake, an immense wall of dark clouds pushes ever closer to shore, rumbling weirdly with thundersnow.  To George the soaring cloud tops look solid and muscular like figures masterfully crafted from massive sheets of steel, a three-headed hellhound, maybe, bounding toward heaven, eager to taste the tender flesh of angels' wings.  The vision seems all the more real thanks to the mangy dogs that trot up and down the narrow brick lane in front of his house, lifting their hind legs to mark their territory, shitting on the sidewalk, pillaging trash cans, competing for non-existent scraps of food.  George feels no pity for them.  Like every creature condemned to live among these streets, the dogs must learn to accept suffering.  Winter is almost here, spring a million years off.  Soon there will be no escape from the punishing cold and constant hunger unless, of course, death whisks them all away to an even colder grave.

The change of weather doesn't seem to trouble Billy.  In a red cape and blue tights, the boy runs back and forth across a muddy patch of lawn, chasing after the grackles that haunt the rotten windowsills and mossy roof peak of the vacant house next door.  At his approach the birds flutter away, easily evading his desperate lunges.  A few even make a game of it.  From the low branches of a stately maple at the center of the yard, the birds hop up and down and screech at the ungainly biped that comes stumbling through a swath of dead yellow grass.  Billy stops to study the birds, his eyes unblinking and inscrutable as a cat's.  He bobs his head as they do, makes little chirping sounds, tries to find a way to ingratiate himself with them, but his efforts only make the birds squawk all the louder.  They run nimbly along the limbs of the tree and kick acorns on his head.  With a grunt of exasperation the boy adjusts his Halloween costume, yanking the tights from the crack of his ass, and suddenly charges, his arms pin-wheeling, his shiny black boots slipping sideways in the muck.

Sensing disaster, George sits up and shouts, “You goddamn birdbrain, watch where you're going!”

But the warning comes too late.  The boy collides with a crooked fencepost, and for a long time he lies on the ground, his face buried deep in a pile of moldering leaves.  He might be unconscious, he might be dead.  George checks his watch and waits for a hopeful sign.

It's only four o'clock.  His wife won't be home from the foundry for at least another hour.  With a long yawn, he bundles the collar of his jacket around his throat and wonders how he will survive so many days tethered to this wretched madhouse.  Trying to find different ways to idle away the dwindling hours of October daylight has become his sole occupation, or perhaps preoccupation, since boredom has become a living thing in his life, a chittering, winged serpent that coils on his chest while he sleeps and waits for him to open his eyes each morning.  All day long it hovers over him, and because he has no hobbies, no skills, no friends to visit, he cannot defend himself against it or silence the sound of its flapping wings.

Now he opens the plastic bag at his feet and tosses a handful of candy near the boy's inert body.  The birds ruffle their iridescent feathers but dare not swoop down to investigate.  After a few minutes Billy lifts his head and from his bruised face peels away a mask of wet leaves.  Had another child been injured--a normal child, thinks George--there would have been a high-pitched scream, inconsolable wailing and blubbering, but from his son there comes only a strangled, drawn-out hiss, the sound a vampire makes after it has been cornered in a crypt, its forehead seared by a crucifix, its glassy, black eyes maced with holy water.  In his four years of life Billy has never uttered a word, not a single one, and seldom moves his lips with make-believe speech.

Sometimes George actually pities the boy.  There are even moments when he wonders if he is personally responsible for Billy's mysterious affliction, if he damaged the child during one of those infamous lost weekends--dropped him, shook him, put whiskey in his bottle instead of milk, vodka instead of formula.  Sobriety should help George remember these things, so say his fellow alcoholics during the weekly AA meetings in the smoky church basement, but the past will not give up its secrets so easily, and for that he is grateful.

His wife, however, is not the type to forgive and forget and is only too happy to remind him of the terrible things he has done.  A deeply religious woman, she believes in the redemptive power of shame and spends long hours recounting, often in meticulous detail, his innumerable failures as a father and husband.  Without asking his permission, she goes to the rectory where she consults the Jesuits about their son, but the priests only offer their usual crackpot diagnoses, use the cryptic words “solipsism syndrome,” and suggest that Billy is merely speech delayed, nothing more.  “Prayer will solve the problem, sure enough,” the priests tell her.  They lounge in an enormous parlor, shielded from reality by ornate tapestries and heavy brocade curtains, as Ms. Higginson, their surly housekeeper, serves tea, pours the cream, counts out the lumps of sugar, attends to their every need, all the while listening to the conversation with special interest.

George does not approve of these clandestine meetings, and he isn't particularly interested in the Jesuits' armchair psychology.  He believes the boy is disturbed, plain and simple, and he isn't afraid to say so.  The neighborhood has a tendency to breed monsters.  Newspapers tell grisly tales of murder, incest, rape, a veritable decameron of horrors not to be believed.  The people here are diseased, their brains warped from breathing the poisoned air and drinking the tainted water.

“I should have a say in these matters,” he told his wife that morning at breakfast.  “I'm still the head of this household, and I believe the boy needs to see a proper physician.”

“Head of the household!”  His wife laughed bitterly.  “Well, aren't you old-fashioned?”  She crushed out her cigarette in an egg yolk and then laced up her steel-toed boots.  “We can't afford a doctor. We lost our medical insurance when you were fired, Zoloft canada, mexico, india, remember?”

“Laid off, you mean.”

“Right, laid off. Sorry.”

Trying to ignore his wife's sarcasm, George focused on his plate, sopped up a pool of bacon grease with a triangle of burnt toast and crammed the whole thing into his mouth.  “Those priests are no better than witch doctors!”  He had a bad habit of talking with his mouth full and sprayed his words across the table.  “Mortal men claiming to speak for God. They can't even look you in the eye and admit that the boy is daft, that he isn't right in the head. Look at him, Zoloft Cost. You'd think he was reared in the wild.”

Billy Fenner tugged violently on a scrap of overcooked sausage and slobbered down his chin but otherwise seemed to watch the scene with perfect indifference.

His wife tousled the boy's hair.  “He's fine. He knows when to keep his mouth shut. It's a sign of intelligence. He's a prodigy.”

“Oh, sure, a real fucking genius!”

George chuckled, busy mopping up more grease with a fresh piece of toast, but he should have known what was coming; marriage had conditioned him to be aware of the dangers, but he didn't realize what was happening until he heard the crash of dishes and felt the fork pressed firmly against his neck, Zoloft treatment, the dull prongs dripping with egg yolk and puncturing his flesh.

“Billy is a gifted boy,” she hissed, pushing the fork ever closer to his ceratoid artery.  “He's smart. Zoloft Cost, He knows a lot more than you give him credit for. Do you know what I think. I think with just a little more encouragement from his father, Billy can accomplish some extraordinary things.”

Billy gnawed at a leathery strip of bacon with great determination.

George nodded and, through clenched teeth, whispered, “Yes, dear, yes, you're absolutely right…”

His wife seemed to be mulling over her options, contemplating the benefits and drawbacks of murder.  Her eyes twitched with something primordial, barely mammalian, as if one of the gray moles nesting in the tangled weeds around the front porch had scurried into the bedroom late at night and tunneled deep inside her brain, gobbling up every last morsel of her compassion and sanity.

The clock began to chime.

“Dammit, I'm going to be late for work.”  She threw the fork down on the table and then hurried to the closet to get her lunchbox and welding hood.

It took a few minutes before George realized he was bleeding.  With a paper napkin, he gently dabbed at the thin trails of blood trickling down his neck and pooling in the hollow around his collarbone.  He trembled at how very close he'd come to confessing everything, every terrible detail of the past few months.  From now on, where can i order Zoloft without prescription, he would have to proceed with caution.  He had no desire to be blinded or castrated.  There were women like that, women who were capable of maiming a man; he'd known a few in his time and had the scars to prove it. Concealing the truth from his wife had suddenly become a matter of life and death.  The risk was especially dangerous since it involved their son.  Still, he had no choice but to carry on.  The alternative was to remain completely dependent on her.  She held the purse strings and seemed more determined than ever to turn his existence into a grueling spiritual pilgrimage to the impossibly distant shrine of sobriety.

Before leaving the house, she kissed Billy on the cheek.  “I'll see you tonight for trick-or-treat.”  Then without acknowledging her husband, she stormed out of the house and marched down the street to catch the bus.

 

 

II

The phone starts ringing (another creditor, more likely than not, calling to harass him), but George considers any phone call a welcome distraction.  Brushing cigarette ashes from his coat, he stands up and shouts to his son, “Hey, Superman, don't fly off anywhere!”

He goes inside the house and picks up the phone.

“Hello.”

“That you, Fenner?”

He pauses a moment before responding.  “Ms. Higginson. How nice to hear from you, Zoloft Cost. It's been awhile.”

“You sound a little uneasy, Fenner. Discount Zoloft, Something wrong?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“My wife. She's not over there at the rectory, talking to those priests, is she?”

“Haven't seen her since last week.”

“Well, then, everything is just fine.”

“Not quite everything.”

“What could possibly be wrong?”

“Don't be dense, Fenner. You know.”

“Afraid I don't, Ms. Higginson.”

Zoloft Cost, There is a long pause before she finally says, “Boiler is on the fritz again.”

“Ah, so that's it.”

“How soon can you be here?”

“Could it wait till tomorrow. I'm in charge of my boy today.”

“Poor child. He's probably running wild in the streets.”

“Everything's under control. Billy is always safe when his daddy is around.”

“Well, bring him with you. If he's still in one piece.”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea. It's Halloween, Zoloft Cost. My wife wants us all to go trick-or-treating. It'll be getting dark in another hour.”

“I'll gladly call another repairman, if you'd like. Plenty of men looking for work these days.”

“Oh, don't do that, Zoloft pictures. Matter of fact, I was thinking of heading out the door anyway. Zoloft Cost, Just finished my last cigarette. Gotta go to the corner store and stock up.”

“Better get a move on then. The priests will be back soon.”

“Must be a desperate situation, eh, Ms. Higginson. A real emergency.”

“I wouldn't go that far, Fenner. The boiler's overheating, Zoloft Cost. That's all. It happens sometimes. You should be grateful.”

The line abruptly goes dead.

After hanging up the phone, George struts over to the mirror above the mantle.  Using his fingers he plucks the coarse black hairs sprouting from his nostrils.  He regrets not having showered or brushed his teeth that morning, but he never expected to leave the house.  Unemployment has turned him into a recluse.

He steps outside and walks over to the garage.  The place is a wreck, and in order to reach the makeshift shelves hammered into the back wall he must scale a treacherous deadfall of plywood and particleboard.  He has been meaning to build a tree house for Billy but hasn't gotten around to it yet.  Under a pile of greasy rags, he finds the adjustable wrench, pliers, Where can i cheapest Zoloft online, channel locks, a chisel, tools so old and rusted they can no longer serve any practical purpose, but he can't very well show up at the rectory empty-handed.  A proper tool set, no matter its condition, makes a man look professional and gives him an air of authority.  People passing on the street are more likely to regard him as an honest tradesman, one who has fallen on hard times perhaps, but a tradesman nonetheless, a skilled laborer who is willing to work long hours for a day's wages.

After securing the latches on the toolbox, George goes to the front yard and finds his son racing around the maple tree, the mud-splattered cape billowing up behind him.

“Hey, you, stop monkeying with them birds!”  With an impatient huff, George yanks the boy by the arm.  “Let's go. We have a job.”

Father and son start the five-block journey to the rectory on Dickinson Street.  Billy struggles to keep up, his grunts becoming more pronounced with every step.  George turns to him and says, “Listen, you're going to do exactly what I tell you, right, Zoloft forum. Zoloft Cost, If you follow my directions, we should make out like bandits. This is going to be a lot more fun than trick-or-treat. Now here's the plan…”

 

 

 

III

Standing behind the elaborate cast-iron gate, Ms. Higginson looks not unlike one of the statues in the overgrown cemetery across the street, an imposing monument of a middle-aged woman carved from an enormous block of gritty sandstone, perfect in her bleak solidity.  Broad shouldered and flinty-eyed, she watches over the rectory like a sentry guarding a house of the dead.  She seems so totally impervious to the world and its distractions, so rigid and immovable, that George is surprised a pigeon hasn't fluttered down from one of the corbelled turrets to light on her head and drape her in flowing ribbons of white excrement.  Without saying hello or commenting on little Billy's Halloween costume, she opens the gate and directs father and son through the shadowy courtyard and into the house.

“Hurry along,” she says.

George winces.  The rectory smells of incense, cheap aftershave, chicken broth, formaldehyde.  It has been a few weeks since his last visit (for some reason the word “reconnaissance” comes to mind), and as he passes through each of its enormous rooms, he lets his eyes linger over the curious relics prominently displayed in cabinets and pedestals--a triptych of martyred saints painted on three wooden panels; a crucified Jesus stretched across a cracked canvas, the savior's bloody fingers struggling to pry loose the nails driven deep into his shattered palms; chalices of silver and gold etched with ancient symbols; an ivory cross; shiny amulets; ridiculous jujus.  Museum pieces of inestimable worth.

Upon reaching the end of a long hallway, Zoloft steet value, Ms. Higginson calls to Billy.  “Over here, boy!”  She opens a door and points.  “Wait for your father down there. It shouldn't take him long.”

George whistles.  “The basement, Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson. Seems a bit spooky for a child, don't you think?”

She puts her hands on her hips.  “I won't have some rambunctious boy wandering around this house.”

“Aw, can't he wait in the library?”

“Out of the question. He'll make too much noise.”

George shakes his head.  “He won't say a word, I promise you that.”

“Down he goes, Fenner, or I'll call Malachy McSweeney and ask him to do the job.”

“Him!”  George shrugs.  “Alright, alright. You heard the lady, Billy. No time to waste.”

Zoloft Cost, He shoves the toolbox into the boy's hands and pushes him toward the stairs.  With a little yap of fear, Billy begins the steep descent.  In the darkness, the boiler skirls and screaks like a steel dragon chained to the floor of a steamy dungeon.  The galvanized pipes overhead cast ominous shadows across the boy's face.  He stands against one of the sooty cinderblock walls and with imploring eyes looks up at his father.

Before slamming the door closed, Ms. Higginson hits a light switch and says, “If he knows what's good for him, Fenner, he'll stay right where he is.”

“Oh, yes, Zoloft pics, he's a very meek child.”

“Alright then.”

She leads George into the kitchen where the table has been set for dinner, the white tablecloth and napkins neatly pressed, the silverware polished, the fine bone china dried by hand to avoid spots and streaks.  George marvels at this fancy presentation, a still life that could easily grace the cover of a magazine, and wonders what's on the menu tonight.  A big pot of chicken soup simmers on the stovetop, but George knows that for an appetizer the priests always eat their God, served in the form of a small, white wafer of unleavened bread.  It is forbidden to chew him, but chew him they do.  This causes god to become wedged between their tobacco-stained teeth and cemented to the roofs of their mouths.  With palsied fingers, with toothpicks, with dental floss, the priests try to loosen their delicious deity, but this only complicates matters and creates a particularly thorny theological question.  As God hangs wetly from the floss in small beads, almost like some culinary rosary, the priests wonder if they should consume the remnants before discarding it.  Surely it's an abomination, a sacrilege of the highest order to throw god into a garbage can or to dispose of him in a toilet bowl.  Since they aren't in the habit of reading every papal encyclical, Get Zoloft, the priests aren't sure what the Church teaches on this matter.  Even for staunch defenders of the faith, canon law can be a most troublesome thing.

Well, no one can follow all of the rules all of the time, as George Fenner can attest.  When he spots the bottle of red wine at the center of the table, for instance, he claps his hands and then reaches for one of the crystal glasses.

“Don't!” Ms. Higginson says.

“Why shouldn't I?”

“The priests mark the bottle.”

George laughs.  “Those tight-sphinctered devils, they get plenty of this stuff every Sunday, I promise you that.  Blood of Christ, my foot.”

“I thought you gave up the booze.”

“Let's just say there are occasions, Ms. Higginson, when I feel justified in taking a sip or two. It gives a man strength.”

“Is that what you tell your fellow drunks at the weekly AA meeting?”

“Everyone cheats now and then. Maybe you should have a little for yourself, Zoloft Cost. Might help you to relax. It can hardly be paradise, working here for these curmudgeons.”

“They're good men, Fenner. They do a lot for this community.”

“You're starting to sound like my old lady, Zoloft interactions. She has this crazy notion that the Jesuits are miracle workers who can cure our son. Laying of the hands and all that.”

Zoloft Cost, Ms. Higginson huffs. “Is that what you think. That your wife comes here to consult the priests about your boy?”

“What other reason can she possibly have?”

“She comes here to give me the evil eye.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“She's no fool, Fenner. She knows what we've been up to, you and I.”

“Like hell she does.”

“Women can sniff out treachery. She's toying with me, waiting for me to break down and confess my sins in front of the priests.”

George takes a step forward and whispers in her ear, “But you won't confess, will you, Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson?”

She uncrosses her arms and shoves him against the table.  With her calloused housekeeper's hands, she unbuttons his flannel shirt and pulls it from his back.  He smiles, kisses her neck, lifts up her heavy wool skirt.  Physical intimacy transforms her from a cold statue into a scratching, writhing hellcat.  She pants and whimpers and grinds her powerful hips against his gyrating pelvis, but before things can really get started she digs her nails into his shoulders and gasps, “Dear God in heaven!”

“What's wrong?” asks George.

“Your little boy…”

“Ha, he doesn't mind.”

“But he's watching us.”

George turns.

Standing in the doorway, clinging to his red cape and sucking his thumb, is little Billy Fenner.  He gazes with indifference at his father's grizzly buttocks and Ms. Zoloft from mexico, Higginson's muscular, white thighs.

“Get outta here, you!” George grabs his flannel shirt from the floor and lobs it at the boy's head.  “Back into the basement!”

With a loud bellow and croak, the child scampers down the gloomy corridor.

Ms. Higginson says, “Maybe we should stop.”

But George pushes her down so she is sprawled across the kitchen table like a ritual sacrifice, and in no time at all the two of them fall into a mutually satisfying rhythm.  At the Jesuit school, the chapel bells begin to chime.  Soon the priests will say grace and break bread at this very table.  It's an image that gives George Fenner such a perverse sense of pleasure that he nearly climaxes prematurely.

 

IV

Thirty minutes later, father and son hurry back home through streets teeming with groups of neighborhood children in their Halloween costumes.

When they are no longer within sight of the rectory, Billy nudges his father and places a small rectangular object in his hand.

George pats the boy's head.  “Ah, the cat burglar strikes again.”

After several weeks of training, Billy has become a true master of deception, conveying to one and all an air of dim-witted innocence.  If he puts his mind to it, he can creep through any house virtually undetected, and over the past few months he has managed to pilfer numerous odds and ends from the homes of relatives and acquaintances.  Occasionally his work yields big dividends--prescription pills, bags of marijuana, a collection of rare coins, watches, credit cards, canada, mexico, india, a book of blank checks.  The Tanzanian shopkeeper pays handsomely for the looted goods, tens and twenties are the standard rate of exchange, and he never asks questions.  With the proceeds from these sales, George is able to maintain some semblance of a social life, sneaking a few pints at the local brewery while his wife works at the foundry.

But now, after a string of successes, disaster suddenly strikes.

“What the hell is this!” George cries.  “No cash. No booze. No pills?”

Zoloft Cost, Rather than find anything of real value, Billy has engaged in a sort of spiritual espionage.  While having no monetary value, the boy's startling discovery does prove one thing: that the old men, stooped and bent with the unyielding cynicism they harbor for their fallen parishioners, are no better or worse than anyone else--they have their weaknesses, their secrets, their forbidden pleasures.  George considers turning around and confronting them, just for the small pleasure of watching the priests choke on their guilt and indignation.  “What sorts of disgusting things go on here?” he wants to ask them as they sit down to dinner.  “You monsters, you're to blame for my boy's troubles. It's you who have traumatized him. I've known it all along, and now I have proof!”  At this point, George would step forward and hold up the deck of pornographic playing cards for all to see.

Billy lifts his head and growls at his father.

George stops, glances back at the rectory, pinches his chin.  “I dunno. We should probably get home. It's getting pretty late. And your mother isn't a very patient woman.”

He flips through the cards one last time and then tosses them to the ground.  Billy lets outs a high-pitched squeak and chases after them, an orgy of big-titted, suntanned harlots engaged in carnal acts with mustached kings, leering jacks, and a cross-eyed joker, his erect penis painted in motley and adorned in cap and bells.

When they finally get home, they see a figure sitting on the front steps.  George's wife yanks the bandanna off her head, releasing a shower of graphite dust, and then crushes out her cigarette with the heel of a steel-toed boot.  She immediately lights another and exhales an iron spike of smoke.

George smoothes back his hair, searches his pockets for a stick of chewing gum.  He can still taste Ms, Zoloft Cost. Higginson on his lips.  For the first time in months he looks at his wife with a tinge of remorse, Purchase Zoloft online, with something that might even be described as old-fashioned Catholic guilt.  She's a scarecrow of her former self, shockingly thin, with dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes.  She struggles every day to provide for the three of them, but somehow George suppresses this knowledge and has learned to live with his immaturity, his irresponsibility, his selfish pursuit of women and drink.  The trick, he finds, is to turn his sins into virtues.

“No overtime tonight?” he says with a timid wave of his hand.  He tries not to blink, not to turn away from his wife's lethal stare.  “Ah, you bought some cigarettes, I see.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

He grins.  “Glad you asked. I was doing a good deed. For the Jesuits. The boiler sprung a leak. Over at the rectory.”

“The boiler?”

“Yes.”

“At the rectory?”

“That's right.”

“Is this true?”

“Is what true?”

Zoloft Cost, His wife glares at him.  “I wasn't speaking to you. I was speaking to Billy. Well. Was your father fixing the boiler?”

George laughs.  “You know damn well the boy doesn't talk. It's your fault, if you ask me, buy cheap Zoloft no rx. You treat him like an infant.”

“He may not talk,” she says calmly, “but he tells me things, all sorts of things. Everything worth knowing, anyway. I've trained him, you see, trained him well. Didn't I, Billy?”

George feels a small but noticeable change in the air.  His smile fades, his stomach tightens.  He wants to hurry down the street to the brewery, but since he is flat broke, he can only stand before his wife like the accused before a jury, helpless to defend himself against the trumped up charges.  With mounting horror, he watches Billy approach his mother.  He looks like a toy soldier on the march, chin held high, shoulders back.  A terrifying vision of precocity, a diabolical scourge.  Suddenly the boy whirls on his heels, points an accusatory finger at his father and, flashing a malevolent grin, holds up the deck of playing cards.

.

Similar posts: Bactrim Cost. Tramadol Price. Order Cephalexin. Buy cheap Bactrim no rx. Retin A canada, mexico, india. Where can i order Glucophage without prescription.
Trackbacks from: Zoloft Cost. Zoloft Cost. Zoloft Cost. Zoloft pics. Taking Zoloft. Zoloft reviews.

Zoloft Price

Creative Non-Fiction by Alisha Dukelow

Zoloft Price, October 12, 2009


I watch Mathilde watch herself in the long mirror. I watch her right leg, with concentrated strength, rise until her big toe slips past the frame of her reflection. With her body divided—one half reaching desperately for the ceiling, and the other half all too bound by its gravitational thoughts—I wait for Mathilde to choose. At the very moment that she looks most liable to leap, I watch her leg swing back down like the heavier side of a teeter totter. I hear the smack of her knee on the hardwood, and brace myself for the sound—the sound that is without language—that I know will immediately follow. By the time I've made it to her, she's already wiping her tears and snot on the bubble-gum blue taffeta, Zoloft Price. It looks as though a slug has begun to traverse the circumference of her tutu. Doses Zoloft work, Upon seeing me, she wails louder. She didn't know that I'd been watching.


“Maman!” she screams.



Silently, I make my exit.


***



November 2, 2009


I'm in the kitchen, slicing apples, when I hear Mathilde playing the piano. Her fingers are light and imprecise on the keys. Zoloft Price, I place the apples on a plate, and venture towards the sound. Standing a few feet behind her, I scarcely breathe for a moment or two. I stand listening, in silence, online buying Zoloft hcl, as she tries to make sense of the collage of notes in front of her.


She stops playing. Awkwardly, I begin to clap. She spins around on the seat, her hair whipping her features and momentarily slicing them in half. She reaches for the lid, and it falls with a heavy slam, Zoloft Price. A look of surprise at the noise she has just made flits across her face. It only takes a moment for it to fade, though—her face sharpens and contorts, and a grimace replaces it. She glares at me as though I've betrayed her. Zoloft pharmacy, The crystal nicknacks on top of the piano faintly vibrate and hum.


“C'est une chanson en français,” she sneers.



I don't respond. Zoloft Price, I simply place the plate next to the nicknacks, where it's too high for her to reach, and walk away.


***



December 14, 2009 (Mathilde's sixth birthday)


I'm twenty minutes late by the time I run through the brick gates of Mathilde's school, a single blue helium balloon waving behind me. I don't stop running until I reach the playground. I scan the area, but my eyes seem to still be moving at the speed that my legs were. Individual faces of the schoolchildren blur before me—what I see, instead of Mathilde, is the collective innocence of their round, pink mouths and heavy eye-lids. I take a deep breath, blink, and look again, buy Zoloft without prescription. I still don't see her, Zoloft Price. I notice one of her friends, whom I rush towards. She stands in front of the swing-set with her hands on her hips, and her little black eyebrows raised like small, pointy arrows. She looks as though she's been expecting me for a while. I ask her hurriedly, half in my fragmented French, and half in my frantic gestures, if she knows where Mathilde is. Zoloft Price, She shakes her head, but a smile gradually crawls to her lips. Cheap Zoloft, I ask her if she's sure. Sil-tu-plaît. I'm pleading with her at this point. As most polite six-year-old girls would, she responds to the power of the word.


“Elle est...là.” She points in the general direction of a cluster of children rolling in the gravel and laughing maniacally, the creases of their jackets lined with dust.


“Ah...où?” I stammer, realizing that I sound more childish than her.



The answer becomes obvious: she's hiding, and I'm supposed to find her.


I spot her under the yellow slide, with her body compressed in foetal position. She giggles, and I'm met with a certain degree of relief, Zoloft Price. I watch nervously as she untangles her limbs. I stand waiting, with my arms outstretched, online Zoloft without a prescription. She walks slowly towards me, her dark eyes narrow.


“Happy birthday...bonne anniversaire...” I stutter somewhere just past her ears, with my fingers entangling themselves in her fine, knotted hair.


Her body remains limp in my embrace. I release her, and pull the ring of ribbon from my wrist. Zoloft Price, I slip it onto hers. Before she even has a chance to thank me...before she even has a chance to smile, the balloon is above her head, and then above mine, squirming into the sky.


“I'll get you another one, Zoloft natural, don't worry.”


I realize how incomprehensible my promises, which I can only offer in English, are to her. I feel as though it's my fault somehow.


***



January 17, 2010


I wake up to the sound of Mathilde's cry. One floor down from me, her scream seems to have sliced the dense night air in two. I turn over instinctively to face the glow of my digital clock: 4:02 a.m. winks wearily in neon at me, Zoloft Price. I get out of bed, blackness flooding my vision. Stumbling blindly down the stairs, I make it to her room, Zoloft cost. I ask her what's wrong, my voice still thick with sleep. I only half expect the shadowy void I face to respond. Zoloft Price, But then, all at once, I realize why she had made such a sound. The glow of her nightlight is nowhere to be seen. She had probably woken from another night terror. I head to the basement, in search of another bulb.


I find her out of bed and standing in the doorway as I near her room again. I only notice her there at the last minute—the slope of her shoulders subtly cutting through the thinning darkness gives her away. Upon seeing me, she ricochets back to the safety of her heavy comforter, Zoloft Price. I struggle clumsily, but eventually succeed in replacing the light. Zoloft schedule, The soft curvature of her face, now illuminated, gives her presence away once more. She had been so silent, lying in the bed. She pulls her blanket up past her nose upon meeting my gaze, but her eyes are gentle. Zoloft Price, I pause, hovering over her momentarily.


“Merci.” Her tone is genuinely grateful, I think.


I smile briefly, and as I'm about to exit her room, I awkwardly blow her a kiss.


“Bisou,” she whispers cautiously but audibly, while pulling the fabric further over her nose.


Turning around, I boldly make my way over to her. I bow to press my lips to her forehead. It's beaded in sweat, which I wipe with the back of my own clammy hand. She doesn't turn away from me.


I leave, slowly closing the door, Zoloft mg. She asks me not to close it all the way. I don't, Zoloft Price. The flow of light, leaking from within it, helps me to locate the staircase.


***



February 8, 2010


Mathilde is bent over numerous felt pens, which are pressed between her ink-stained fingers, when I enter the living room. I notice that they are all blue. It's easy to see that the task of adding colour to whatever she has in front of her is an important one. I quietly seat myself next to her. Zoloft Price, I wait for her to protest my arrival. Fast shipping Zoloft, She remains silent, and I see that her head is bowed over a picture of a horse. The horse is fast becoming pastel-blue, fading into the backdrop of the sky.


“Très belle, Mathilde,” I offer bravely.


For another minute or so, she shows no sign of having heard my compliment. But just as I'm about to leave, she speaks.


“My favoreet coleur is blue,” she proclaims to me in her best English—stretching each foreign word out on her tongue until it's taut and seems ready to break in multiple places, and then releasing it, allowing it to curl backwards and knot in whichever way it wishes.


I beam at her, order Zoloft no prescription, and instinctively extend my arms to her in a hug. She dodges it. I begin to walk away, but glance once over my shoulder as I'm about to pass through the open door, Zoloft Price. Her body is essentially unmoved, but she has craned her neck towards me. Her eyes are round as she watches me go.


***



March 18, 2010


“Regarde. Regarde, regarde, regarde!”


Mathilde bounds over and peers up meaningfully at me. I have been watching her dig around in the garden for the past hour. Zoloft Price, I can scarcely tell if she’s excited or if she’s scared, because her eyes appear to be overflowing with both emotions. No prescription Zoloft online, Her palms, caked in mud, are intricately creased over the handle of a hand-shovel—so tightly, and so purposefully, that her knuckles are bloodless. She looks at me expectantly. I really don’t know how to respond to the small brown slimy blob that is seated on the stainless steel. She becomes aware of the pause in my expression. She uses some French word that I’ve never heard before to provide an identity for this ‘thing' that she presents to me.


***



April 22, 2010


With the ends of q-tips dipped in various shades of blue watercolour paints, I carefully decorate Mathilde's face to match mine, Zoloft Price. The periwinkle and navy lines and dots that jump upon her smooth skin seem to throw her features off balance. I imagine that I look just as curious as she does. Suddenly, she tilts her head, Zoloft without prescription, and the line that I had half-completed runs stubbornly away from me. The left lean of her nose is greatly accentuated by this mistake. Zoloft Price, My canvas, having slipped from me, laughs—the wet regions of paint bleeding slightly, and the dry regions wrinkling. I laugh too—enjoying the splitting sensation taking place on my own face.


Then we're in the backyard, and she's on the swing. I'm not pushing her. She's pumping her small legs faster and higher—the black leather of her shoes scratching the blue of the sky. She's laughing again. So am I, Zoloft Price. And then she's on the ground.


Her eyes expand and grow glossy, but she doesn't cry. Without thinking twice, Generic Zoloft, I take her in my arms and gently begin brushing the dirt from her pink elbows and knees. Her head finds my lap, and I sit there with her, in the middle of the backyard, for what feels like a long time. Apart from the few cars coming and going in the distance, and her breath, weighting and warming the fabric of my dress, all is quiet. We sit on the grass together, fluently, in silence.


.

Similar posts: Purchase Cipro. Buy Cipro No Prescription. Bactrim Price. Buy Lipitor without prescription. Lipitor schedule. Retin A images.
Trackbacks from: Zoloft Price. Zoloft Price. Zoloft Price. About Zoloft. Herbal Zoloft. Online buying Zoloft hcl.