I live in a home

I can't touch the nurse or she screams at me. I used to have a wife and she was fat and we slept together every night. I got her when I was nineteen. She had tiny ears and a big butt...in a good way. She made me dinner every night. We had two sons and a daughter. Jake, Paul and Sheila. Our daughter is forty-seven and both our sons are dead. They got in a fight when they were in their thirties and killed each other. My wife died of a heart attack last year.

I say that wrong. It wasn't a fight that killed the boys as much as it was a car accident. But Paul was mad at Jake and Paul was driving and...who knows what the hell happened? Point is, both my sons are dead and I live in a home.

I'm not bitter. I'm just bored. And lonely-I can admit that. I know I'm hard to live with-I've always been kind of a bastard so I understand why Sheila doesn't want me to stay with her. I don't think I'd really want to stay there either. I think mainly what I want is to get back that slow time I had when I was 20...how it felt like death would be a relief. How it felt like life would take forever. Maybe even if I could have a woman. Fat don't matter to me.

It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't hat ethe damn TV. I hate that damn thing. Damn screambox. We never had one with the boys. We never let them watch it. I hate that damn thing.

My name's Amos. Amos Henry. I've got a nice cleft chin that girls used to really like. I remember one...this one girl...she had something wrong in her head, I think. She didn't last all too long. She took me over to her house when her mom dad weren't home and gave me the business.

The nurse won't let me touch her. I'd give her the business if I could.