Mirko opens the window wide to air the place out and hears the shattering glass and Father's swearing. He runs out without even putting his shoes on, kneels next to Father, pulls his arm, grunts. Mirko offered to do the shopping but Father said he'd been cooped up too long in the back-breaking cold snap and he'd rather have Mirko wash up in the kitchen. Just a few necessities is what he'd get: rum, hard rolls, eggs, bottle of milk. The broken bottle is the milk. Father makes sure the rum is safe, and still down, on his ass, he unscrews the top and takes a slug, and then a second one. Mirko is trying to drag him upright; Father is cursing, “Jezismaria, jezismaria, it's broken; it's broken damn it, I can't.” Mirko lets go; Father sinks down, still holding the sacred bottle, takes another swig. He puts his head down on the ice, exhales. Mirko feels like crying, laughs instead.
“I'm hurt, for Christ's sake. What the hell is funny?” Father starts, but then looks at the shards, the rolls and egg yolks in the dirty snow, the bottle in his hand and laughs, too. “Shit, that leg hurts. I'm sure I shouldn't be moving it. Go in, call an ambulance. I'll have to get moved by pros.”
A week later Father is in his own bed, leg in a cast, hoisted up in a contraption Mirko and Mr. Dudak made after Father announced to the examining doctor following a single night in the hospital that he'll shoot everyone in the place, first the chattering nurses and then himself. Mirko is in charge of the bedpan and bringing Father food. He feels he'll need to take a pillow and hold it over Father's face for about ten minutes, just to be sure.
“You got a job yet?” Father asks every morning. “When I was your age I sure had to work. Not like you young ones these days. Soft. Everyone's gone soft.”
Mirko puts the radio on full blast in the kitchen, hears the announcer say it is the seventh consecutive day of record cold temperatures. Can't go live outdoors yet. “What the hell are you doing in that kitchen?” Father's voice booms. “You waiting for chicks to hatch? You gotta break the eggs in the pan, then bring them to me.” Mirko tests the sharpness of the butcher knife.
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Mirko returns!
His life is not any easier.
The collection of his adventures is approaching completion.
Another good addition to the series, Andrew. Poor Mirko. The interplay between parent and child is spot-on.*
Andrew,
The intensity of these interactions btwn father and son are exceptional. This is an amazing novel-in-progress? or collection? Really vivid! ****
I am such a Mirko fan! And this addition to the rest of his legacy sings so true! I do hope you consider a collection of these, or whatever feels best to you.
Fave.
Mirko is a force all his own, a mixture of molotov and cream. Glad to see him lighting up these pages again!
*
Really good dialogue. Rings true.
The ending is killer. Perfect last sentence!
Good piece.
*
Gotta love family.
I hadn't seen this series. This is just taut and simmering. That last line is a Guillotine. Nicely done, Andrew!
great last image, makes me want to read the next sentence! really like the pacing of the piece too!
Andrew, always happy to see another Mirko. Glad to hear you've got a collection in the works! *
Love it. Keep coming with the Mirko stories. Don't stop.
star, eh.
It's clear you've taken care in making these characters as real as the written word will allow. I enjoy that the most in a story, characters who I can tell have been completely formed by the writer. It's a sign of true craft. In this story, this bit stands out the most for me, sums up so much with such economy:
"Mirko puts the radio on full blast in the kitchen, hears the announcer say it is the seventh consecutive day of record cold temperatures. Can't go live outdoors yet."
oooh, that last sentence... keep 'em coming. peace *
Read this earlier and came back and read it again, it's that good. Nice work Andrew.
Now I have to read more of your work. Fav.
Joani,
as always, I am thrilled by your support.
Meg,
your work thrills me. Your support...
Robert,
we'll work together, we will. Thanks.
Susan,
you are a shining star in the universe of Mirko support.
Bill,
from you, I am humbled.
Gary, David, James,
much appreciated.
MAK,
thanks again and always.
JLD,
I always bow before your mastery. Your support means so much.
Shel, my man,
hugs and kisses. You have made such a difference.
Linda,
thanks again. Peace right back at ya.
David,
hugely appreciated.
Lynn,
thanks for your support.
That last sentence/image: Awesome! *
Really great piece, Andrew! The ending is simply killer! Nice job!
I don't believe for a second that Mirko has gone soft. Not him, not now.
Andrew, you simply have to get the whole thing out there. Fascinating look into this whole other harsh reality. * for sure.
I'm killed. But it was clean. I bought it all the way through.
i like this very much.
I want to know what Mirko finally does.
But that knife, eeeek
Good use of dialogue, Andrew. Enjoyed.
This is good, but it left me wanting a lot more!
*
Another good Miko story. His father makes sure the rum is safe is great and the last sentence is killer.*
You've made me want to read more Mirko stories. This certainly makes the reader want more. Give us more!
Fantastic. Long live Mirko! Thanks for leading me to your newest story, Andrew.
Had heard of Mirko! Now I know!
Faved this ages ago but I guess I forgot this: *