They have just had another argu-

ment, another one; they are com-

ing too regularly, too often and loud-

 

er and louder, out of his mouth especi-

ally. It concerns a third party’s pres-

ence. Hell, two communicating is hard

 

enough; throw in a third and the con-

fusion escalates exponentially. It is

bad enough when his dead mother

 

and her dead father arise and

fight it out from years gone by

through their son and daughter’s

 

bodies, meaning the husband and

wife’s mouths, but add a demanding,

self-absorbed, controlling — it sounds

 

like a child doesn’t it — seventy-two-

year-old, soon to be an invalid kid

who occupies their time and space

 

and after a few drinks and lowered

resistance and a super-ego giving

way to a libido, well, then, they are

 

off to the races, and to be fair, this

race isn’t worth running and so they

need to pass up Churchill Downs and

 

the wonder of The Oaks and the runn-

ing of the fast and furious fillies, sim-

plify, simplify, simplify and realize

 

that the old man kid, baby-boy needs

to find another tit for a while and they

need to go camping up north.