For All the Stale Dried Bananas (Kenneth Dillon)

Motherfucker he was to introduce himself to me, first word out of his mouth “motherfucker.” What with the directness of it and his barbed name: Doug Ted. Doug Ted says to me motherfucker, motherfucker. Should be a verb, he doug’d me I guess wouldn’t you say?

Behind me at the Mobil, Doug Ted stared up and down the Gatorade and the beer and the Pringles and the Mega and whatever the fuck and me I guess but shit I didn’t know, spelling his name out real dumb and slow to somebody mean on the phone, the doctor’s or mechanic’s maybe. I slid the guy, fuck’s his name? shit, a Take Five and all because I wanted my dollar back. He hands me my dollar and Doug Ted says to me motherfucker, the motherfucker.

I kissed Doug Ted’s sweaty head with a dollar in my hand and he stood there thinking about it, the kiss, a kiss from a man in a Mobil right on the sweaty fucking head. Thinking about what else, you think? Doug’d the son of a bitch and he’s thinking, he’s thinking Doug Ted is. Doug Ted if you’re still thinking, come get my dollar. I won it for you.


Kenneth Dillon is a writer from New York. Twitter: @kenneth__dillon


image: Lindsay Hargrave