MY NEW CAREER
by:Michael Hathaway
some call him handicapped, some call him special, some call himdisabled. i imagine he's been called worse in his 59 years. i just call himClem. i work for him midnight to eight a.m., clean his house, see to ithe has safe, peaceful sleep. around seven he hobbles out of bed,appears in his living room doorway, what little hair he has standingat-attention. with his near-toothless grin he says, "HI!!! I'm h-u-u-n-n-n-ngy!" whileI fix his cereal, he shuffles around his bedroom donning t-shirt and overalls. he pats my shoulder, sits down to eat, says, "thank you,Man." he shovels frosted flakes in his mouth, too fast, milk dribbling down hischin. he approaches me at the sink, so earnestly, nose-to-nose. he wantsto tell me he's finished eating through a mouthful of unchewed cereal, butcoughs unexpectedly. there i stand laughing at shift's end, my face apuddle of milk and soggy frosted flakes.