The Sink – Eric Thralby

There was an old woman made of rags who lived under the
She threatened everybody.
Get your filthy hands off me!
The sink was worse.
He loved cigars. And he was a racist.
He spit at people. He kicked at people.
He was not really a sink but an old man bent to look like a sink
who existed over the pipes.
The woman, same, was an old woman who lived under the sink.
The sink liked to cackle and say things suggestive of intercourse.
I bet I make you wet, he’d said. Then he’d spray it in their faces.
The old man did not swallow the contents of their plates.
He spit them onto the floor.

Captain by trade, Cpt. Eric Thralby works wood in his long off-days. He
time-to-time pilots the Bremerton Ferry (Bremerton—Vashon; Vahon—
Bremerton), while other times sells books on, SellerID:
plainpages. He’ll sell any books the people love, strolling down to library and
yard sales, but he loves especially books of Romantic fiction, not of risqué
gargoyles, not harlequin romance, but knights, errant or of the Table. Eric
has not published before, but has read in local readings at the Gig Harbor
Candy Company and the Lavender Inne, also in Gig Harbor.

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