“
Dear God:
Thank you for the gift of life.
Signed: Conroy
Conroy:
What gift? You know there's no such thing as a free lunch. You're paying for life every day. Pain, depression, bad weather, disappointments, sorrow, the blahs, and every day you're getting older. What do you call all of that, fringe benefits?
I figured that if I just gave you life, you wouldn't appreciate it. Not that my charging you did much good. Most of you don't appreciate life anyway. You're too busy complaining about the price.
Signed: God
TWENTY-FOUR
"She'll be ready in a minute," said Leonard as he sat down sideways, looping his legs over the arm of an aging, overstuffed chair in the Cohen living room.
As I sat down on the couch, I could hear the sounds of the early Sunday morning crowd drifting through the door and up the few stairs that separated the Cohen Food Store from the living room. The few times I had been in Leonard's house, I always felt as if I were sitting backstage at a neighborhood play.
Mrs. Cohen came out of the bathroom, readjusting the apron that came up to her armpits. "Good morning, Timmy," she said, smiling as she walked across the living room.
"Good morning, Mrs. Cohen."
She stopped and stared furiously at Leonard. "Sit in that chair the right way."
Leonard obediently swung his feet around and
”
”
John R. Powers (The Unoriginal Sinner and the Ice-Cream God (Loyola Classics))