His aunt, slightly eccentric, had to have
everything just right, and if he didn’t
have something in the right place when
he put it back, she’d snap and he’d get
a quick slap. But the slaps didn’t hurt.
She was 87 and weak. He was 23 and
strong. His aunt was saintly the rest of
the time, so much so, she could have
been sainted. And when she died she
left him ten thousand dollars in her
will, which hurt more than the slaps.
He blew it all on whisky and women,
and the one he loved broke his heart,
when she left him after his inheritance
was gone, and he wished his aunt had
been alive to give him a quick slap when
he started wasting all that free money.
Bob Boyd