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What? Wally Adam Wachter

Today my wife came home early and I was sprung from the loving arms of my children like a parolee from the state pen. I left the living room with the clothes on my back and squinted at the sun as I left the shadow of the big house. But, once outside I felt nervous and didn’t think it possible but I was already missing my routines that helped my secluded days pass. But, the hell with it. I was free. What should I do first.

I gathered my spare change and decided to pay my buddy Stevo Javinsky a visit at his place of business where he makes CDs and DVDs at Copy Cats Media (now I can ask him for a fin for mentioning his business in my Stay at Home Sad chronicles). Sure, Stevo makes some money from making plastic from musicians’ dreams, but he also makes some solid cash from a fancy Coca-cola machine. I met up with another prison buddy Rick Neuboy (also a stay at home sad kinda guy) and we helped Stevo fill that Coca-Cola machine. It was just like old times.

Then, we were listening to some music and knockin’ back a couple of coca-cola’s (if ya know what I mean) and in walks Adam Wachter. Adam’s one of the meanest hombres in the whole joint. He comes from way out west and don’t put up with too much guff. Unfortunately, lately he’s been livin’ with his mom and pops and he don’t seem too happy about it. When this fella’s not happy, he just starts talking nonsense. So, he props himself up in the doorway like a finely tuned lone sandbag ready to take on a ragin’ river.

Rick says, “Hey, Adam.”

Then Adams says, “Some day if I have a kid I’m goin’ call him Wally.” I respond, “ok.” Stevo nods. There’s a moment of quiet. “Wally Wachter”, Adam says breaking the silence like a leg before a stage performance.

I say, “Gee Whiz, Adam, that’s a good name. Hey, that reminds me of a story”. I try to break the tension a little with my story about my ancestor named Gamelbar.

Adam walks away and there’s a collective sigh of relief. He’s a real good guy, but he needs to move out of his parents. Then, I think – what if my kids are living with me when they’re close to thirty. I hear a jail cell door closing in my head and have another drink. I’ll be heading back to the big house in no time.

Sadly Yours,

Jason Spafford

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