hank was eighty-eight years old.
frank was ninety years old.
they met every morning around ten o’clock at dunkin donuts.
they always sat in front of the window, where the sun, if there was any, could shine on them.
they had a lot to talk about, as they had both lived a long time and known many people.
they talked about what idiots and assholes all the men they had known were.
and what bitches and whores all the women they had known were.
and how ungrateful and ignorant and what punks and pussies all young people were.
politicians - don’t get them started.
one day frank didn’t show up, because he was dead.
after that hank didn’t have anybody to talk to, and he drank his coffee and nibbled his danish alone every morning until he died too.
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