Insomnia Press
Justice by Joe Schwartz
this time. She just smiled and smacked me across the face hard. I goddamn near came in my pants.”
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more so, keep his memory alive for generations to come, if you were to complete his purchase today.”
The Wilsons were nice people. Mr. Wilson had recently retired from the library, thirty-five years as a janitor and not a gray hair on his head. Mrs. Wilson was round like an apple with rosy cheeks, a greasy forehead, and remarkably small chested. They let Charles and me into their home as if we were family.
What a complete line of shit. If these people actually knew that we were nothing more than sophisticated grave robbers, this lead and several like it coming straight from the obits, they would’ve shot us on sight. Charles had no qualms about doing it. Justified his actions by saying what we did brought these people some measure of comfort. It was only a few Photos covered the home’s walls, tabletops, and hundred bucks. They were flush from Government mantle of a child that grew to be a man. The earliest settlement checks. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford showing a boy still happy to play in a sandbox filled it. Not like we were stealing or really being dishonest. with yellow construction trucks. The latest featuring a Plenty of soldiers bought from us, were some of our grim faced, clean shaven young man wearing a Green best customers. I would see, he said, when we went to Beret with an American flag draped stiffly in the back- sell door-to-door on an Army base how he practically ground. couldn’t take their money fast enough. After getting settled on their couch, politely declining water and coffee, Charles let them have it.
I took the bottle back from Charles. To think about that nice couple made me feel disgusted with myself. The liquor made it feel better; helped me to “This happens sometimes. A soldier happens forget my shame momentarily and I sure did appreupon the website, fills out all the information, but ciate that. I’ve done many shitty things in this life but then for some reason never gets around to placing the almost exclusively to myself. I didn’t like the idea of order. Once again, let me tell you how sorry I am for hurting people, lying to them, for money. Made me your loss. I’m sure Gary was a fine young man and the feel as if I was some kind of con artist. A side-show sacrifice he’s made for our country is immeasurable. grifter blowing into town, ripping off the local rubes That being said, I think it would honor his memory, by selling them some bullshit cure-all in all likelihood