“When I was young,” said The Doc “I was thin like you.”
“No!” squealed Jasper in disbelief.
He sat on the scrap of faded carpet at the old man’s feet staring up at a belly that threatened to escape from the straining confines of The Doc’s faded Grateful Dead T-Shirt.
Jasper, who was old enough and smart enough to know the old man wasn’t a real doctor, couldn’t see The Doc’s face from where he sat too much of the man’s belly was in the way. All Jasper could see of the face was the tip of a large nose as bright red as the Post Box on the street outside the block of flats The Doc and he lived in.
“Thin as you,” repeated The Doctor, “until they sent me to school and they taught me so much my mind couldn’t cope and then bam!
“All that knowledge spilled out, filled up my whole damn skin, man.”
The Doc seemed so serious that for a moment or two, Jasper believed him. Then he noticed the old man’s belly heaving as he tried his best to suppress the laughter that Jasper knew was building up inside his giant frame.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.