Yummy Sarah (Epilogue)

Oh, to be a Republican this year ...

Daddy and Grandpa Republican despairing, drunk, the children getting all jacked on sugar ... 

Daddy having pulled up stakes in Michigan ... to help out in North Carolina ... where he didn't think he'd ever have to go again ... to help Gramps, who isn't acting quite right.

Life isn't fair! 

And then, on Tuesday, the family sits down to Grandpa's overcooked pork roast again. Grandpa and his tired jokes, dust everywhere, something rotting in the refrigerator ...

The children wonder, Can we pass on the pork roast, and go straight to dessert?

Grandpa wheezes but otherwise gets up without a word and goes to the pantry, grabs the box of Yummy Sarah. Why not, he says, and sets the box in front of them. Eat your hearts out!

But Daddy, opening another beer, objects. It's all sugar, he says.

What are you talking about? That's some fine cereal. I eat it myself.

It's all sugar. They shouldn't—you shouldn't—it's all sugar!

Says who? Some nutritionist? Some doctor? What the hell do they know?

Well, something, presumably ...

Look, I didn't tell you to bring those children to my house.

What are you talking about? They're you're grandchildren—

Don't remind me. I make them pork roast and all they do is whine.

They're children! Besides, you overcook it. You cook it until it's tough as a football ...

It's pork, for Christ's sake! You gotta cook pork or you get sick ...

Not true ...

Not true? When did you get so critical? Used to all you did was crow over what a fine wholesome meal you got when you came here, and now ...

Look, you can't just feed them sugar.

Says who? The experts? You're starting to think they know something now? Anyway, it's not like it's the first time they've tasted sugar. They came here for years and ate the Frosted Ron, the Huckleberry Bush. You never complained. 

I know. And yet ... 

You watch, they'll eat the whole box.

Dad, that's my point. For God's sake, look at them. They're tearing your house apart.

I couldn't care less. Your mother isn't here to complain anymore, God rest her soul. If I need to I'll get the Mexican lady down the road. She'll pick things up. Important thing is, Are the children whining? No, they are not.

Until tomorrow.

Tomorrow! Who knows if tomorrow will even come?

But their teeth are going to fall out.

Dentists have to make a living, too.

What? Have you lost your mind?

Damn it, if I want to eat Yummy Sarah, I'll eat Yummy Sarah ...

But we're not talking about you.

I know. And don't think I'm happy about it ...

They're going to eat that cereal until it's gone, the whole box—fine. What then?

With any luck they'll go to sleep.

But they'll just want more tomorrow.

Then I'll send you to the store.

You're out of your mind.

You have a better idea?

How about we get someone in here who knows how to cook?

Grandpa is suddenly seething. He can't look at his son. You're getting smart with me? You're getting smart with me now. Just remember, your old man ... I'm not so old that I couldn't shove them teeth of yours right down your ...

The son is shocked. Drunk, but shocked. Jesus, what's happened to you?

For years you tell me you love my roast, and now ...

You're not feeding them roast. You're feeding them sugar.

What do you want me to do, fix them quiche? You'd rather have your kids eating quiche?

Better than sugar. Better than empty calories—

Have you gone liberal on me? Say you haven't, because I'd have to kill you with my bare hands if you had ...

Dad I ... I think we'd better go.

To where? Where are you going to go? To get your liberal quiche. You think after a whole box of Yummy Sarah they're going to want quiche? I don't think so. Not these grandchildren.

You don't even like them. You just said ...

Shut your mouth. I love them. 

You don't. Or you wouldn't—

Don't you say it. Don't you dare. You do and I'm done with you, do you hear me? Done. And then where will you go? You think anyone else would have you? And those children? Don't you cry. You make me sick when you cry. You remind me of a Cubs fan ...

I want another beer!

You're going to need more than beer before the night's up.

Fine. I'll take it. Whatever you have.

Cut yourself some roast. Grab a handful of Yummy Sarah. Before it's gone.

The son is weeping, howling. I can't ... I don't believe this!

Here ... have another beer. Now shut your mouth. It's what I have, where we are now. You can either like it or leave.