On it huddle what's left of Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty - wasted, painfully thin, hoses still wrapped tight around their ugly, track-marked arms, nodding in relief from their latest fix. Empty packages marked "US Treasury" liter the mattress and floor.
At the foot of the mattress, in the filth and excrement,
Ted Nugent's "Cash Strapped Fever" blares from a downstairs stereo.
Mommy says "Look at them, don't they seem so peaceful?"
"Yes, dear."
"Its a good thing we took out that fifth mortgage," says Mommy.
Daddy replies "Yes dear, it was a tough decision, but a good one."
Mommy says "I'll feel so much now that they've promised to check themselves into that rehab next year."
Daddy says "In a bit I'll go over to your mom's house and pull the copper pipe and wire out of the walls so we can make the first payment for the fifth - we'll use whatever's left to go out and have a nice dinner to celebrate."
Mommy says "Oh dear, what will she do for water?"
Daddy says "Not to worry, I'll leave a fresh bucket of cold water in the bathroom for her. We'll just tell her its for the good of her grandchildren. I'm sure she'll understand."
"You're so kind, dear," exclaims Mommy, "what would we do without you!"
They make their way down the stairs, careful not to trip over a number of their children's Portuguese, Spanish, Greek and Italian friends dragging themselves up the stairs.
As they leave through the front door a Chinese man pushes past them, rushing into the house, carrying a large, brown paper bag. Fresh, clean packages marked "US Treasury" peaking over the top.
Out front they pass a van marked "Intervention." The man in the front seat is crying over the steering wheel.
Their limo, an aging, greying model, is waiting across at the other curb. Timmy, the driver, lolls by the side of the car reading his newspaper.
"Timmy!" shouts Daddy as they cross the street, "where's that fifty you owe me!"
"Gosh, gee, sir!" Timmy says with a start. He fumbles in his pockets.
"I paid that back. Remember. It was all just a..."
"Oh come on, Timmy," says Daddy jovially, "I'm just kidding... Let's go."
Mommy and Daddy climb in the back and the limo lurches away from the curb. Through the glass separating the driver from Mommy and Daddy they see Timmy struggling to keep the car in a straight line as it moves down the road.
Daddy raps on the glass.
Timmy lowers it.
"Timmy!" shouts Daddy, "what's wrong, why are we weaving all over the road?"
"Sorry, sir," says Timmy, "these roads are full of potholes and its hard to find a smooth ride."
Daddy reflects for a few seconds looking out the window. The limo careens over a small bridge; a small creek below visible through the myriad of holes in the bridge decking.
"You're right," he tells Timmy.
"After the kids get out of rehab we'll see about these roads."
"Thank you, sir," replies Timmy.
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