Can of Lager

She will bring him his Can of Lager and Remote Control. He will politely say, “thank you,
dear.” This is what he looks forward to after a hard day’s work, the anticipation of the
familiar sound – pschitt. It reminds him of when he was a young apprentice, drinking
with his mates behind the church, then on to the disco at the town hall. He was popular with the girls he always treated them well.

She will return to the kitchen to clear up after their evening meal and prepare his lunch
for the next day. He likes cold meat on his sandwiches one day and Scottish Cheddar
the next. Occasionally he gets cold meat two days in a row – he never complains.
They live in a nice house in a nice area. He has done well for himself and his family. He
has a good work ethic, overtime, homers and jobs on the side. They are proud of their
children; both went to university and now have lives of their own.

With an hour to herself, she will go off to her quiet room and phone her sister in America. She will keep an eye on the time then at ten o’clock collect his half-finished can of lager. She will pour it down the sink then turn on the water to rinse it away. She will wait for the familiar stench to hit her. She will return to the lounge, take his remote control and switch off the television, prod him gently and say, “come on dear, time for bed.”



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