The Dinner Party
A short vignette by Kelvin "creeky" Hodges
As we finished our meal the men, mostly neighborhood friends, had exhausted talk of our new cars, the money we were making, the stock market rally, when my wife interrupted our bullshit session with the command to listen to what this hunched thing perched near the end of the table had to say.
She would find these creatures. Often poor, usually odiferous, to drag to our parties in the hope that their presence would provide some glamour to her reputation for cultivating an artistic temperament. Typically they were writers, unpublished, or artists, unshown. Dreary things.