FOR THE LOVE OF BUTTER

 

His grandmother was obsessed with butter, no one knew why; it had something to do with cows. When she wasn't eating butter, she was hoarding butter. When she was neither eating nor hoarding butter, she was warning everyone in shouting distance to lay off her butter.

             Every morning his grandfather left the house. He'd retired years ago from the plant so no one knew where he went. Finally, one day he stopped, he had to, he was dead.

             Shortly after, his father died. It could have been an overdose. So in turn, it was just his grandmother, her butter, and him.

             One night over the empty table his grandmother said:

             “You know, they never listened. Did I not warn ’em? I told ’em to lay off me butter.”

             The grandson then asked:

             “How do you feel about salt?”

             “Salt's fine. Live it up. Just lay off me butter and we'll get along fine.”

             He did, and things were fine, until one day, foolishly, he brought home some olive oil.

             It was a blood bath.

Adam Jeffries Schwartz is a writer, photographer & traveler. Some recent work can be seen online at: Ghoti, Inscribed, The Green Muse, Laika Poetry Review & The Suitcase Generation. Also take a look time to time at some of his latest postcards at Sorrowland Press’ latest release Observation After.

And, no, this piece is not autobiographical; his family is much worse.

Dance to Death, Issue II

©2008 Sorrowland Press and all respective artists within.