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Dilemma. The demon that rips the coward to shreds. Brave men know fear, know it well, learn to accept its sour taste in the back of their throats, for the rewards of bravery are always sweet. But the coward lives on a different diet, a meek gruel of indecision and reluctance. And so, dilemma. When one has to choose between two evils. Necessary choice. And Ham was so scared, he wanted to die. Not a thousand times, just once. For good. He sat in his easy chair, slacks shiny from the glow of his mother's old television and the sweat from his palms. He tried to pick up the phone, but it slipped from his grasp, landing on the cat, who hissed, swiped a paw at it, went back to sleep. Ham hated his mother's cat. But the cat hated him too, so that was okay. He let the phone ooze it's dial tone. Ham knew all about mutual disrespect. It made him comfortable. He once risked chatting with Tina, the homely girl in the typing pool. She remarked on his haircut, complexion, the depth of his chest, and the color of his breath. He found out later she was something of a floozy, given to drinking strong liquor with questionable men. Ham and Tina had a healthy, comfortable disdain for one another. Then his mother met her. Damned coincidence. Who was it that said the only thing amazing about coincidence is that we are still amazed by it? Deus ex machina, Ham though, shaking an impotent, dripping fist at the ceiling. My life is not a novel for your enjoyment, lord! Ham's mother and Tina's mother both volunteered for the puppy adoption agency. Seems they had more than a busybody attitude and children at Fulbright, Swisher, and Associates in common. Seems they both had single adult children. Just lovely children. Did Tina's mother not know about her daughter's reputation? Ah, mother's are blind. And Ham knew, there was no justice in their blindness. His palms became lakes.
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