starts rubbin a soapy wash cloth on my belly. I look down at my bare skin. Looks like acres a ice cream.
“ Troo what again?”
“ I know you don’t want to accept it, Topsy, but your brother and his wife have been indicted for attempted murder and they’re out on bail awaiting trial. They are forbidden by the court to come anywhere near you. They were trying to kill you, Topsy.”
“ No. Dey treated me good! Dey fed me!”
“ They were feeding you to death, that’s what they were doing. A nifty little scheme, I’ve got to admit. You kept signing checks so they could buy you food, big checks that allowed them to live high while they kept pumping you full of the worst kind of food you can imagine.”
“ Good food,” I told her. “Da best!”
“ The worst! High fat, high calorie. Your blood sugar and cholesterol and triglycerides were through the roof! And when they got you to fifteen hundred pounds, they left you for a day. They knew you’d try to get out of bed, and they figured you’d fall and die on the floor. Well, it almost worked. Lucky for you that you got stuck in the doorway and someone heard you yell. Even then you almost didn’t make it. By the time they broke through the wall of the house and hoisted you out, you were so far gone into heart failure you almost died in the back of the pickup truck they had to use to get you to the hospital. It almost worked, Topsy. The rats almost got your money.”
“ Ain’t got no money.”
“ Oh, really? Folks with no money can’t afford a private hospital suite like this. What do you call that twelve million dollars you won?”
Oh, yeah. Dat. I won dat inna State Lotto a few years ago. I forget tings sometimes. I amemba Sal an Marie bein real happy for me. Dat’s when dey moved in an started takin care a me. Dey treated me real good. Dey unnerstood dat I gotta eat.
I always hadda eat. Evyting I amemba bout bein a kid is food. Ma cooked for me alla time, an when she ran outta food I’d go over my fren’s houses an deir moms’d fix me stuff. I lost my first job as a kid makin deliveries for Angelo’s Grocery because I useta eat half da stuff along da way. An whateva job I had, I always spent da money on food.
Food was evyting ta me. I amemba how I useta give people directions back in da days when I could still get aroun. It’d be “Go down to da Dunkin Donuts an turn left, den go bout tree blocks an turn right at da Dairy Queen an it’s bout half a mile downa street, a block past Paisan’s Pizza.” All my landmarks hadda do wit food.
But afta I won da lotto an we moved out to Long Island, I got so fat dat my whole world became my bedroom, an time got measured by meals an TV shows.
Da TV’s on now. I useta love to watch TV. All da game shows an talk shows inna mornin, an da soaps inna aftanoon. Loved dem all. Now I hate ‘em. Not da shows—da commercials. Food! All dey seemta be sellin is freakin food! Like torture, man! I go crazy wit da little remote control but evytime I switch I see dis food bein shoved at me in livin color! I’m bout t’go crazy, know’m sayin? I mean, if it ain’t McDonald’s it’s Burger King or Wendy’s or Red Lobsta wit dose shrimp just oozin butta onna enda da fork. Or da Pillsbury Doughboy’s got some new cinnamon ting he’s pushin, or dere’s microwave chocolate cake or Reese’s Pieces or Eat Beef It’s Real Food or Domino’s Pizza or Peter Pan Peanut Butter or Holly Farms Chicken or Downyflake Waffles or Dorito Nacho Chips an on an on.
Know’m sayin?
Tell ya it ain’t fair, man. Guy could go crazy!
“ Okay, Topsy,” Delores is sayin. “It’s time to do your back. Now I know you can’t turn over, but I want you to help me. I’m going to unstrap your right hand so I can do some of your back.”
Dey been keepin my hands strapped downta da bed frame. Dat’s cause da diet’s been makin me kinda goofy. I got bandages on da
“ Troo what again?”
“ I know you don’t want to accept it, Topsy, but your brother and his wife have been indicted for attempted murder and they’re out on bail awaiting trial. They are forbidden by the court to come anywhere near you. They were trying to kill you, Topsy.”
“ No. Dey treated me good! Dey fed me!”
“ They were feeding you to death, that’s what they were doing. A nifty little scheme, I’ve got to admit. You kept signing checks so they could buy you food, big checks that allowed them to live high while they kept pumping you full of the worst kind of food you can imagine.”
“ Good food,” I told her. “Da best!”
“ The worst! High fat, high calorie. Your blood sugar and cholesterol and triglycerides were through the roof! And when they got you to fifteen hundred pounds, they left you for a day. They knew you’d try to get out of bed, and they figured you’d fall and die on the floor. Well, it almost worked. Lucky for you that you got stuck in the doorway and someone heard you yell. Even then you almost didn’t make it. By the time they broke through the wall of the house and hoisted you out, you were so far gone into heart failure you almost died in the back of the pickup truck they had to use to get you to the hospital. It almost worked, Topsy. The rats almost got your money.”
“ Ain’t got no money.”
“ Oh, really? Folks with no money can’t afford a private hospital suite like this. What do you call that twelve million dollars you won?”
Oh, yeah. Dat. I won dat inna State Lotto a few years ago. I forget tings sometimes. I amemba Sal an Marie bein real happy for me. Dat’s when dey moved in an started takin care a me. Dey treated me real good. Dey unnerstood dat I gotta eat.
I always hadda eat. Evyting I amemba bout bein a kid is food. Ma cooked for me alla time, an when she ran outta food I’d go over my fren’s houses an deir moms’d fix me stuff. I lost my first job as a kid makin deliveries for Angelo’s Grocery because I useta eat half da stuff along da way. An whateva job I had, I always spent da money on food.
Food was evyting ta me. I amemba how I useta give people directions back in da days when I could still get aroun. It’d be “Go down to da Dunkin Donuts an turn left, den go bout tree blocks an turn right at da Dairy Queen an it’s bout half a mile downa street, a block past Paisan’s Pizza.” All my landmarks hadda do wit food.
But afta I won da lotto an we moved out to Long Island, I got so fat dat my whole world became my bedroom, an time got measured by meals an TV shows.
Da TV’s on now. I useta love to watch TV. All da game shows an talk shows inna mornin, an da soaps inna aftanoon. Loved dem all. Now I hate ‘em. Not da shows—da commercials. Food! All dey seemta be sellin is freakin food! Like torture, man! I go crazy wit da little remote control but evytime I switch I see dis food bein shoved at me in livin color! I’m bout t’go crazy, know’m sayin? I mean, if it ain’t McDonald’s it’s Burger King or Wendy’s or Red Lobsta wit dose shrimp just oozin butta onna enda da fork. Or da Pillsbury Doughboy’s got some new cinnamon ting he’s pushin, or dere’s microwave chocolate cake or Reese’s Pieces or Eat Beef It’s Real Food or Domino’s Pizza or Peter Pan Peanut Butter or Holly Farms Chicken or Downyflake Waffles or Dorito Nacho Chips an on an on.
Know’m sayin?
Tell ya it ain’t fair, man. Guy could go crazy!
“ Okay, Topsy,” Delores is sayin. “It’s time to do your back. Now I know you can’t turn over, but I want you to help me. I’m going to unstrap your right hand so I can do some of your back.”
Dey been keepin my hands strapped downta da bed frame. Dat’s cause da diet’s been makin me kinda goofy. I got bandages on da
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