the many untold riches of Sandra M. (a novella of loss, gain, and the mental riches found only in poverty.)

Hungover didn't even begin to
describe his current state. He
was "hung-under."

Hung-Under and still hanging
(loosely) to the pathetic fable
of his sanity.

The light peeking through the
blinds is a source of pain..
sending shivers of nauseua
through his stomach, and (in
spite his many failed attempts)
he can't seem to blink away
the dizzy sensations threatening
to send his broken world into
a tails-spin.

"Why do I do this shit?"( he asks
a self that no longer answers.)
And with that he staggers his
way to the bathroom to splash
cold water on his face.

The ugly, unshaven bastard staring
back at him seems like an unknown
assailant who has broken into his
house while he slept, and climbed
into his mirror to mock him.

"Fuck you." he mutters to the pale
face with dark circles beneath it's
eyes.

"I hate everything you stand for."
he adds.

Then,(wake up ritual complete.) he
walks slowly out of the bathroom,
and heads into the kitchen for coffee.
__

Sandra M. was in top form this
morning. (no surprise really.)
Her cheer sending cold chills
of annoyance down his spine
for reasons he can never define.

"Good morning Stephen! she
chirps, pointing to the kithen
table. "I made breakfast. Biscuits
with gravy, bacon, scrambled
eggs, and coffee!"

"thanks." he mutters. Trying to
keep the scorn out of his voice.
The feeling of nausea threatening
him once more.

"what's wrong Stephen, rough
night? She asks, her brow
furrowing in concern.

"It was busy. I wrote a lot."
he says non-commitally.

"oh, well great!" Sandra M.
exclaims.

"when can I read it?"
she asks.

His eyes darken at this,
and suspicion fills his mind
uncontrollably. She dosen't
believe me. (he thinks.)

"When it's done Sandra."
he says in a flat monotone
voice.

She frowns slightly, and
says " I really do hate when
you call me that. I'm your
mother afterall." before
walking over to the stove
and uncovering a pan of
biscuits.

"Yeah. Sorry." he says.
(insincerely.) "Force of
habit." then he grabs the
carafe and pours himself
a cup of coffee..sipping
prematurely at the steaming
brew which (of course) burns
his lips.

"Son of a bitch!!" he screams
in rage..holding two fingers to
his freshly burned mouth.

"Language Stephen." Sandra
M. scalds. "James is here you
know." she says pointing across
the kitchen to a little table where
a small boys sits, shyly watching
the exchange between adults.

Genuine guilt fills him now, and
he wonders how he overlooked
the boy.

Forcing more cheer into his voice
than he feels, he looks over at the
boy, (the ghost of his brother in
child-form) and grins,  causing the
boy's face to light up instantly.

"Say boy. when'd you get here?"
he asks.

"Hi uncle Stephen." the boy
says grinning. "My Mom dropped
me off."

"ohh. well..cool." Stephen says.
adding "Might be a good day to
fish eh?"

The boys grin widens, and he
looks at Sandra M. exclaiming:
"can I mamaw?"

"Well, I don't know boy. Uncle
Stephen looks kind of sick. He
was up late last night." she says
in the placating kind of voice that
adults reserve for children.

"I'm fine." Stephen assures with
more conviction than he feels.
"a few more of these." (he says
holding up the coffee in mock
salute) "and i'll be Perfect."

"well.." Sandra M. begins.
before being interrupted by
another outburst.

"Oh for christ-sakes "Sandra"
(stephen yells, putting emphasis
on the name Sandra to annoy her.)
"You act like I'm gonna feed the
kid to the fish or something!"

James laughs at this, not reading
into the tension building in the
room between the adults,..causing
Sandra to frown, and turn away
to the stove again.

"alright." she says, relentingly.
"just don't fall asleep this time."
she adds.

"That was ONE TIME Sandra.
One Time!..and you're going
to bring it up till the day I'm
in the Grave." Stephen says..
anger rising.

"One time is enough Stephen!"
Sandra yells..her own voice
raising now, and patience waning.

"One time for him to fall in
the Pond and be gone like..."
her voice cuts off, and she
starts to walk out of the room.

"Wait." Stephen says. Guilt
overwhelming him now.

"I'm sorry..mom." he whispers
sincerely. "I'll keep a close
eye on him. I swear. I got
4 hours of sleep last night,
and you know me. I can go
for days on four hours." he
adds reassuringly.

"Ok then."she relents.
"just please be careful
Stephen." she adds half-
pleadingly.

"My Heart couldn't handle
another loss."

"Great." he says. An odd
sense of victory reviving
him.

"well. first we eat. then...
we fish!" he says triumphantly,
causing James to giggle
hysterically.
_______

Just Two Guys Fishing.
____________________

2)