The Very Next Day (part three)
You might think I drink a lot of coffee. That's because I do. I don't have a lot of bad habits, but if drinking coffee's a bad habit, then that's one of them. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. But put a cup of coffee in front of me, and I'll make it disappear faster than my paycheck in the hands of my ex-wife. So, after dinner the next day, my wife serves me a cup of coffee. I sit at the table. I look at the patio. I look at my wife. She looks at me. Then at my father. "Would you like some ice cream before we go outside?" she asks him. "Uh..." he says. He's trying to be polite. My wife cuts him off at the pass. "It's new," she tells him. I look up from my cup. I didn't know my wife had gone shopping. "What?" "The ice cream. It's new." "It is?" "It is." "What kind is it?" "The new kind." Now, before you think my father's a senile...