It was my last day on earth as I knew it, so I said to everyone
that I’d like to celebrate with a huge piece of German chocolate
cake and a couple of pickles on the side. And that’s when a woman
said it reminded her of the time she was pregnant and had such high
hopes for the child, but that after graduating from Harvard with honors,
he would up joining the Mexican Cartel and now is one of their top
hitmen, killing anyone who gets in their way. And then another person
said, “What a coincidence, because my child also graduated with honors,
but became a slumlord who owns dozens of apartment buildings through-
out the country and throws old and sick people out in the streets without
the slightest regard for what will happen to them.” And when the next
person chimed in with their story, I yelled out, “Hold it, you sons and
daughters of bitches! This is my last day of consciousness, and all you
talk about is your damn children! In the end, who cares where they finally
wound up.” With that, everyone nodded and directed their attention back
onto me. And when the chocolate cake with pickles arrived, I ate it very
slowly while smiling at everyone. And at some point I commented that
it was a shame that I never had any children because maybe one of them
would be here on the last day of my life. This made everyone teary-eyed,
and someone said, “Yes, it’s really a shame because that’s why people
have children in the first place!”—and as darkness descended, I thanked
everyone for coming. . .
Written By: Jeffrey Zable
Jeffrey Zable is a teacher and conga drummer who plays Afro-Cuban folkloric music for dance classes and Rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area.
His poetry, fiction,and non-fiction have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies. Recent writing in Hypnopomp, Ink In Thirds, Nauseated Drive, Tigershark, After The Pause, Third Wednesday, Brushfire, Smoky Blue, Alba, Greensilk, Corvus, and many others. In 2017 he was nominated for both The Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize.