Flat Comb

Shallows in the night fill the heart with the lingering irritation of hope.

Every father slips into this rut of job placement exercises and whorehouse trips. None of the mothers have enough money to party. All of the daughters take care of lots of sick animals. Up to seventy percent of sons die fast from automobile collisions and of the remaining thirty percent, five percent are fighters with brass balls, five percent are laughing warrior monks who like technology, five percent are laughing warrior monks who hate technology, five percent are redneck hustlers, five percent are cool chefs who moonlight as catalog models, one percent are roughneck weapon lovers, one percent are simplistic journalists with no interest in monogamy, one percent are theorists of anal mythologies, one percent are grumpy soldiers, and one percent refuse to acknowledge the need for covering their penises with the garments most appropriate for that particular task.

We have mostly researched sons, basically.