Ralph smiles, pushes the plate back, and says in strong Indian accent, "Have some more potatoes. You're a growing boy."
Burt, "You-r a gro-ing bo-y. . . I don't want any more, Ralph. I had a whole bag of chi-ps." He always has a large bag of tortilla chips with him.
Ralph could be a serial killer. It would be the perfect opportunity, a counselor in a group home. No proof, just a hunch. Barry slowly pulls his clunky oxygen tank cart, and is last to sit. No seconds. He sits and says, "It looks good," and crosses himself.
Sonny, in her seventies, takes a bite of my cake and says, "Mondays at six," talking about her free painting class.
She's not shaking. Her face is asleep. Her body drops. Pat calls out, "Oh!" Dennis and I look at each other. Then he stands up. Nate is still chomping down mashed potatoes. Everyone gathers around, and Rich tells us not to touch her, and calls 911. Pat says, "Don't worry Sonny." We stare. Diane takes everyone in the backyard. The ambulance transports her unconscious. She's lucky we're so close to University Hospital.
Did Sonny have a stroke? It couldn't be the cake. The box said, "Zero grams trans fat." Get it out of the trash. See, "Zero grams trans fat per serving ." Per serving? Why is 'per serving' in small letters? Read the ingredients: Water, bromated flour, hydrogenated rapeseed oil! Hydrogenated rapeseed oil? Those sneaky bastards. It was the cake. Read the word "hydrogenated" one more time.
After dinner a bunch of us sneak out the bedroom window and sit on the roof. Rich would have a fit, if he caught us. It's a mild summer. The night sky is clean. The stars are clear.
Dennis looks like Hank Hill, a big dude with square crew cut. "I was stationed in Germany."
Nate rolls a cigarette. His voice is deep too, but not as. "You was in Germany?"
Dennis smiles and giggles, "I was in Germany for three years, and I was married for a year and a half."
I say, "Cool. Did you see any combat?"
Dennis says, "Dude, this was 1980." Chuckles. "Peace time." Nate puts it in his mouth, and asks, "Does anyone got a light?"
Dennis immediately lights him. "You asked the right person. Three packs a day." His eyebrows go up and he laughs.
Nate takes the first drag, then says, "Never married. No kids, Free agent."