April 23, 2003

Today is the day to leave the filthiest voicemail of your life.

My friend David Mogolov has a new site up now, and you should check it out.

Some maintenance stuff: Zulkey.com is working towards being easier to access and easier to navigate. In the next few days, the archives will be tinkered with. Let me know if you find this more or less convenient and if you have any suggestions on how to make this site simpler to deal with. Please keep in mind that my web design skills are nil and if you suggest anything that involves great work and detail, I will pretend I didn't receive your email. I'm talking suggestions that a half-witted monkey would comprehend, here.

42

Meredith was sick of her kids and husband doting on George, but this time, she blamed her kids and husband, not George. It was the last night of his visit, and the two of them stood out on the sun-warmed, splintery back deck.

George was close to sober again and he fingered his last remaining joint in his pocket. He could take a chance and offer it to Meredith only to suffer her wrath (in which case he's fly back to the members of Meredith's family for support) or he'd have to try this in his right mind.

"Would you, ah, uh," George stuttered, awkwardly thrusting the joint at Meredith.

She gaped at him and for a second, George honestly thought his older sister, his thirty year old sister, would slap him.

"Where have you been keeping this?" Meredith asked quietly.

"Um."

"Give me that."

Meredith snatched it from George's hand, produced a lighter from nowhere, and was sucking down the joint like it was water and she was a castaway on some comically tiny deserted island.

"I have been dying for this," she said in a choked voice, trying to keep the smoke in.

"Where did you get that lighter?"

"Those kids are driving me nuts. And Bob won't shut up."

"Oh, they're all ok."

Meredith passed him the cigarette. "George, when you have a family, you will realize that it's entirely possible to live with people who are 'all ok' and still have them drive you nuts."

"Hmm."

"It's just like--they can give you no problems at all, but they're still there."

"Ah."

Meredith smiled at her brother. It was a facial expression so out of use for her that he could practically hear her creak. It was nice. Nice and weird.

George considered leaving without asking Meredith more about her book, the way he did with Tom, but he had travelled too far and smoked way too much pot not to do so. Also, too many chapters of this story have been written without any sort of resolution to come out of them.

"Meredith--"

"Ooh, I am soo hungry."

"Meredith?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you start writing your book?"

"Hee hee hee!" Meredith doubled over in laughter for a good five minutes and George considered giving up drugs altogether, let alone sharing them with his family.