Rowdy’s Dream Blog #30
The Very Best Oil Soap
I arrive "home" at night. An ill-behaved family of strangers argues heatedly in our driveway around their parked car. They scream and punch at each other. I ignore them and go inside. I am told that the small, sickly-looking man in leather chaps seated in our foyer is the guy who used to make the very best oil soap, but that those days are gone now because he spends all his money on drugs. I express to him my regret for my lost opportunity. He offers me some consolation, micro-waving me some tomato soup with sausage.