He’s a broker of reality, hired out by desperate parents who don’t understand why their adult children haven’t gotten a normal job or stopped playing video games, the parents of comedians and singers and writers, who just want their children to have everything they had. He sends me photographs of my parents’ house in Skokie, my sister’s kids, my ex-girlfriend, Amy, and her husband, Phil. He sends them in anonymous yellow envelopes with no return address, so all I can do is throw them out. I don’t open the envelopes anymore. And my parents and I never talk about them.
***
Title by: Anonymous
Story by: Nick
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I like how you’re merciless to typos, with inevitably chucklesome results.