by AN Block

Once my father beat me with a chair, a small chair of varnished mahogany. It was his chair, he said, so he had every right.

When I asked, he said, You know why. It’s for trying to be funny.

But, I said, I always try.

He thought for a moment. Well, consider this like the Oscars, it’s a lifetime achievement award.

After I recovered I didn’t stop wising off, but I learned to be more careful.

He left my wedding early, he said the ceremony was taking too long.

In case you’re wondering, I did cry at his funeral.

AN Block’s stories have appeared in Buffalo Almanack (recipient of its Inkslinger Award), Umbrella Factory (a Pushcart Prize nominee), Maine Review, Per Contra, Drunk Monkeys, New Pop Lit, Lowestoft Chronicle, Citron, DenimSkin, Burningwood Literary Journal, Crack The Spine, Constellations, Bicycle Review, Lakeview International Journal, Flash Frontier, Foliate Oak, Down in the Dirt, Contrary, Blue Bonnet Review, Nite Writers, and The Binnacle. He teaches at Boston University and is also Contributing Editor at the Improper Bostonian.