07-09-02 - 9:38 p.m.
he wants a master in culinary arts. she dreams of journalistic triumphs. he works part time at footlocker, looking like an underfed sports referree without a whistle. she is 18 and extremely pregnant with a baby named cougar. in the sonogram, which she displays religiously to anyone she encounters, cougar seems to be flashing a defiant middle finger at the world. between you and me, i think he understands the ramifications of his name. he is developing attitude, readying himself for a lifetime of ridicule. and dweezle zappa thought he had it tough.
they were living in a bonnie and clyde style motor court when money ran short. after my independence day party, they slept on my sofa bed. after that, it was their car, a crusty monster with a cracked windshield. it is now parked in my driveway and they're living with me, a modern day joseph and mary looking for a manger, installed on my sun porch that i someday hope to decorate with potted palms and wicker furniture. they have no money, no plans, no future. i am fiercely independent, a loner, and fanatical about my privacy. i am, after all, dallying with a married man. when i told him, patrick said grimly; your tender heart always turns you into the villain. remember your brother? remember heasley?
in the meantime, mary is killing time with crossword puzzles and eating everything in sight. joseph dutifully takes out the trash and tries to mask the terrible resignation in his sean penn eyes. there's a rocking chair in my storage shed, waiting to soothe baby cougar when he arrives. i haven't heard a newborn cry in 16 years.
oh. did i mention the stray puppy berries found wandering the park on the fourth of july? her name is morgan, and both the cat and chihuahua hate her.