Like Father Like Son

My father and brother like to catch up on the news down at the hospice. It's a daily affair this newspaper thing. Always catching up, they can never get ahead. If you could only get ahead for a day or two, you wouldn't need the use of it. It would just be old news piling up in the corner. And there's always a nice pile in the corner and another on the couch and another on the table. In fact everywhere you look the news is there: It bursts from the living room screen at dinner. It blasts from my dad's bedroom at night. It'll creep through the walls from his radio at four in the morning. I'll listen to the muffled chatter and utter a whispered curse.