Mercedes

When Aaron was told about our disastrous
excursions, he smirked. No such ill luck, he
boasted, would bedevil his plans. He proposed
a journey to the tip of Africa. It sounded exotic.
I asked if there’d be baboons. Aaron promised
boatloads of the mangey pests. I was taken
aback by his vulgarity. But the others laughed.
I sensed some competitiveness with Moshe.
Aaron planned to outdo his brother. The bar,
I reflected, wasn’t set particularly high. The
next morning, Aaron would swing by in his
Mercedes.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

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