Harry’s Bedtime Smile

Harry’s bedtime smile hardens on his face. He doesn’t wake up laughing. When Laudette comes looking for him to tell him one of his playboy buddies is there for their usual Sunday afternoon date for kick off at Behemoth Stadium, Sarah shakes him and shakes him, pushes him and slaps him. He does not wake up.

The big Homer-built bed has yet another corpse lying in it. Harry’s heart has stopped, his brain is consumed by blood, and his soul is being sledded over the frozen inner springs by death’s dog pack to the sweet bye and bye, the playboy pad in the sky.