My Cardboard Balcony

A Whiskey Popsicle by Belinda Roddie A whiskey popsicle awaited me in the freezer once I returned from work. I licked the stick clean while watching TV as my oldest brother, the big old jerk, carried four tablets of ibuprofen in his hand, a roll of toilet paper under his arm, and a small just-for-rent CD player into the room. I stirred from my re-runs of Seinfeld just to give him the middle finger for no reason. He did not notice it for once in his life, disappearing into the kitchen. I licked another whiskey popsicle and wondered how our lives would be less dull.

Someone was having an asthma attack on the bus on the way to San Francisco. Jerry, being a doctor, jumped up and tried to give the poor woman some space to breathe. A dozen people were already crowding around her where she knelt in the aisle, very close to collapsing. "Would you all step the fuck back?" snarled Jerry. Not very medical man-like, but it was enough to get people to scoot away.