Tommy’s lawn is nothing but dirt. A child’s wading pool, filled with mud, sits a few feet away from the door. A young girl around the age of five sits in the mud pool, her blond curls untamed and knotted. She’s wearing a striped bikini. Another child, only a year older runs around the yard with a bebe gun shooting at stray cats. The boy is only in a pair of ripped jeans, nothing else.
Inside the living room there are four more children. Three boys and one girl. The four year old girl is wearing a sundress that is too small for her. The youngest boy, a mere two years old, is in mismatched socks and a diaper. The other two boys, both 7 years old, have mullets. The one boy is wearing an extremely dirty shirt with ripped sleeves & a diaper meant for his youngest brother. The other is wearing a shirt with the words “Quiet Riot” written across the front & a pair of sweat pants.
Tommy is resting Al Bundy style on a very busted couch, one hand half down his zebra print pants, the other holding the remote to the TV. As Tommy reaches for his breakfast – a chicken potpie and beer he yells to his wife. “Woman, get me another beer.”
Martha, Tommy’s wife, stands in the kitchen, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, the ashes an inch long, ready to fall and hair in curlers. She rolls her eyes and her husband and ignores him, turning her attention back to her ‘Guns and Ammo’ magazine.
Tommy belches, crushes the can on his head and throws the can to the children. They pick it up, thrilled to have a new toy. The youngest just barely walks over to his father and holds his arms out to be picked up. Looking down at his child Tommy picks the baby boy up and places him lovingly on his beer belly.
A few minutes later, Martha, who is five months pregnant, comes waddling into the living room from the kitchen (which is only a few feet away) with another beer. The baby smiles and takes the can from his mother. After sipping the beer, he burps. Tommy pats the baby’s head. “That’s my boy.” He praises before looking at his wife.
The woman he married only three months before, because she was pregnant with their third child, was good enough for a man like him. She still had on her robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers. The twin boys clung to each of her legs and the little girl in the sundress was perched on her hip. “What are you looking at asshole?” Martha screams before putting her cigarette out in his beer and lighting another one. “I have to go to work at Wal-Mart soon.” She moans while handing the little girl to one of the twins. He immediately drops the little girl, than runs outside with his bow and arrow to chase his little brother who is still shooting cats with the bebe gun.
Tommy finds ‘The Price is Right’ on one of the very few channels that come through on the television. As Bob Barker introduces an overly excited college girl what her prizes would be if she won Tommy also got excited. “That girl is mighty fine.” He said to no one in particular. As Tommy’s hand went further down his pants, the TV’s reception faded out. “Son of a bitch!” Tommy yelped jumping from his spot on the couch.
The young boy on his lap tumbled to the floor. “Get over here…Junior…” Tommy struggled to remember his sons name. The baby crawled over to his dad and smiled. Tommy pushed him next to the TV. “Sit here.” He commanded.
Tommy walked the few feet to the kitchen and reached for another beer along with a box of tin foil. He opened the beer with his teeth and went back to his son. The remaining children gathered around him in amusement.
Tommy’s wife came out of the only bedroom in the trailer dressed in stretchy biker pants and a moo moo. Her hair curled to perfection and her bangs hair sprayed so high it nearly touched the ceiling of the little McCarthy home. “See you for dinner, than it’s off to the late shift at Target.” She said, lighting a cigarette, giving Tommy the finger and slamming the door.
Tommy shrugged at his children. “You’re lucky she’s not your mom.” He said to the remaining twin boy who had been clinging to the woman’s leg earlier. “Now where was I?” Tommy patted his beer belly and it jiggled like a bowl of Jell-O. The baby sat still by the TV and Tommy’s face lit up remembering the cute college girl on ‘The Price is Right.’ Taking the tin foil out of the box and creating some make shift antennas Tommy attached them to the child’s head and placed the baby on top of the TV. The reception came back in and Tommy settled back on the couch, stuffing falling out as he adjusted himself back in his molded place.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. This is living.” Tommy said before chugging another beer, crushing it on his head and throwing it to the children, providing them with yet another new toy.
