Even If I Sell My Grandson

Another smashed TV screen.

And Jack just did not care.

Tired of these fucking jerk-offs in commercials flaunting their perfect lives in front of him. "We sold our policy. Now we can relax and enjoy our retirement as we had planned." All fucking smiles and bouncing grand-kids. Give me a fucking break.

Fuck your perfect retirement. I don't even know the meaning of the word. Can't afford it. Cannot fucking afford it. Even if I sell my fucking blood. Even if I sell my grandson. These were the thoughts running through his head when he picked up his shot glass and threw it at the screen.

It was satisfying, except that he had to get up and grab another shot glass. Wait a minute - fuck that. He decided to drink right out of the bottle. Why not? He'd done it before. Many times. Didn't matter if he dribbled a bit, his t-shirts were more like works of art - aged and distressed.

Shit, sometimes when he was expecting friends or relatives he'd grab a slug or two out of the bottle to settle his nerves just before they showed up. Then pour them a drink out of the same bottle.

Fuck them. What did he care anyway? He didn't need anyone. He could wall himself off and do just fine sitting in his recliner, drinking, and watching TV. Alone. Alone, alone, alone.

Except for the fucking commercials. Reminded Jack of the olden times in the wild, wild, west when the snake-oil salesman would come to town in his covered wagon and sell potions and remedies to the townsfolk. The stupid, ignorant, gullible townsfolk. Who would fork over money they didn't have for shit that didn't work. But the snake-oil salesman only came through every couple of months. Until someone shot him in the head.

These days you get assaulted with commercials, non-stop, repeating over and over again. Volume up, honesty down. Pounding their lies into your brain through torturous repetition. And you can't even shoot the advertisers in the head. The advertisers know you are no different than them folk from the 19th century - stupid, ignorant. and gullible. 

"Act now and we'll throw in a second set of cookware free!!!" There is no FREE, for Christ sake - they are fucking you high, hot and hard and you are taking it.

"Supplies are limited so act now before they are all gone." Which is tempting, except for the fact you see the same commercial saying the same thing three months and 4,000 repetitions down the road.

Jack watches TV a lot. He must see thousands of commercials a week, most of which are repeated until he pukes. Throwing lefts and rights at his head until his brain sloshes, like boxers' brains do. 

Jack's eyes glaze over, he sips his whiskey, he rants and raves. He can get by like that OK until he gets one of those commercials that show people living perfect lives, flaunting their perfect lives and their perfect decisions. Mocking Jack's pathetic life.

That's when the shot glass flies.

Jack spent another half hour drinking from the bottle, watching the Bruins game through a severely cracked screen. It didn't matter because the Bruins sucked this year anyway. Then he got up, lost his balance a bit but recovered, and called Best Buy and got patched through to Bobby, a lifer in the electronics department.

"Bobby, it's Jack."

"Jack, how you doing? Time for another TV already?"

"Yup."

"All right, I'll set aside an Insignia 42 incher - you can have it for $180."

"Good enough, Bobby. I'll be there in half an hour. Want me to sneak in a couple of nips of whiskey?"

"Sure thing, Jack."

"OK, see you in a while. And thanks."