December 07, 2005

# 2

Amos dropped to his knees, cupped his palms together and thought what he could say at such an uncomfortable moment.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Amos pleaded as trickles of sweat raced tears down his wrinkled face. "Why won't you say anything?"

The red plastic bucket did not answer.

Tomorrow, surely the sun will rise again. Amos hoped it would be so.


Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

Kaufman may have earned bucket loads, but that doesn't mean you should be extracting buckets from his hair.

Amos should have known not to expect words of wisdom from a plastic vessel.

Kaufman said...

How do you know for sure?