Death to the Cash Cow

Crucifix secured to string, dangled from Aseop’s neck, removed and left on his end table, next to his rocking chair and settling in to teeter, he placed a cold soda inside the string spiral. Aluminum can adjusted to different temperatures, perspired and left a ring of moisture behind as Aseop lifted the soda, took a gulp and set it back down. Flames jutted from his furnace, decorated the drip coming off the soda-can in ember polka dots. His partner, Jeddidah, walked into the living room, heaved a sigh. 

“I’ve done it.” Jedidah said.

“Done what?” Aesop questioned. 

“I done it…I done it…Hell…I named our cow.” 

Aesop shook his head in disapproval, heaved a sigh of his own, but unleashed it through his nostrils. 

“Why’d you go do something like that?” He asked.

“I don’t know…Claudia…that’s her name…Claudia…she was looking at me with these eyes, glossed over, looking like…hell…remember when we released those balloons at Paul’s wedding and one of ‘em hit that power-line and sparks flew everywhere?”

Aesop nodded in agreement.

“Her eyes looked like that. Full of electricity, but meant for a different purpose, like they were saying something to me about love.” 

Aesop peered over at his crucifix, a tiny puddle had formed underneath Jesus, pairing that atop the glass, it looked as if he was floating. 

“You ain’t going to be able to kill, what’d you call her?”

“Claudia.”

“Claudia. You ain’t going to be able to kill Claudia now.”

“I know.”

“Shoot. You know it’s easier just to kill ‘em than watch ‘em die slowly. Where’s the love in that?” 

“I don’t know…maybe I’ll fall out of love and be able to kill her.”

“Meat will go rotten by then.” 

“She’ll be our cash cow then…our Golden Calf.” 

Aesop raised from his chair, strode to Jedidiah’s side, pulled him close and kissed him. 

“I love you to death.” He said.

Published by akcola

AK Cola is a pop-culture war veteran.

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