I hadn't been up too long this morning when Meat came rolling through my front door. He held last week's paper in front of my face.
"Nobody cares about your birthday, SJ."
I glared at him and finished my cup of coffee. I turned to the coffee maker to get another, but the pot was empty, too.
"Tater got any coffee going over there?"
It's been an action packed few days. Sometimes only one pot of coffee doesn't quite do it.
"Maybe you should just slow down some old man."
I pushed past him, walked out the front door and toward the Meat Locker. The front door was wide open. Tater was sitting on the couch hammering away on a laptop.
"Morning Tater, got any coffee made?"
She glanced up at me and jerked her head toward the kitchen, then refocused on the laptop screen. I mumbled thanks and b-lined toward the aroma of strong coffee.
When I returned, Meat was coming through the front door. He was still holding the paper out to me.
"Did Tater tell you what she's working on?"
"Meat, you need to be quiet so I can finish this. That's why I sent you out." She didn't even look up.
"She's working on an editorial SJ. Somebody's got to write about what's going on if you're not."
"What are you writing about Tater?"
She stopped typing and looked up at us, red faced. Meat took a step back, whimpered "sorry", grabbed my free arm and pulled me toward the door. He pulled the door closed and plopped into a camp chair. You could hear the fabric stretch and for a second I thought he was going to go right through it.
"Dadgum it SJ, she wouldn't be on a crusade this morning if you'd write about the stuff that matters. The deficit's huge, the Supreme Court is packed, voters are getting thrown off voter rolls, our Governor is blowing things up and giving his best buddy a two hundred thousand dollar state job, the Saudi's just killed a journalist with a permanent American Visa, Sears is bankrupt, and Trump Trump Trump."
"You forgot the painting of Republican presidents in the White House. Think it's painted on velvet? It should be painted on velvet."
"You're changing the subject SJ. Now Tater is on the warpath."
"Okay, okay, I get it. But man, there's so much crazy happening sometimes I can't narrow it down to one or two crazies at a time. And you know the Trumpets aren't going to read it."
"No, they only read what Cadet Bone Spurs tweets."
"So, I'm preaching to a very small choir. More people around here would rather see billionaires get tax cuts than get the social security they paid into for years. They whine about a rich kid judge being guilty before proven innocent while they chant "lock her up". I could point out the irony, but that word baffles them."
"Yeah, but it's what you're supposed to do."
I hate it whan he's right.
Wonder what Tater has to say? Maybe I should just send hers in this week.