Some Pot of Gold


“Look at that. A rainbow.”

She touched his shoulder. He shrugged it away.

“So fucking what. Who do you think you are?  Noah?”

“I’m just saying that it’s not all bad.”

“Oh yeah. Easy for you to say.”

He stormed off across the asphalt, fists balled in fury. He got to the car and went around to the passenger side, pulled at the door. It was locked. He turned toward her, raised his hands in a pantomime of impatient frustration.

She fished the remote from her purse and pressed the unlock button. Nothing happened. She tried again. Across the parking lot, he crossed his arms and stamped his foot.

“Try holding it to your head.”

She turned. It was the State’s Attorney, the very man she had been hating for the past two hours. He gestured at the keys.

“Seriously. Hold the keys next to your head and try again.”

She did as she was told. The lights of the car flashed. Her son got into the car.

“He’s going to be hot in there,” she said. She looked at the State’s Attorney. “How’s that work? With the keys?”

He shrugged. “Something about the liquid in your skull amplifying the signal. Works even better with a bottle of water.”

“Huh,” she said.

“Listen,” said the State’s Attorney. “I’m recommending an outpatient program after he serves his time. It’s the best I can do. With luck, he’ll have learned his lesson.” He looked out at the parking lot. “See the rainbow? Maybe it’s a good omen.”


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