Narcissus Loans His Brother Money

“This is not a gift,” Narcissus said sternly. “It’s a loan.”

Before his brother could take the thick wad of cash from Narcissus’s hand, it retreated to the opposite side of the table.

“Use this money wisely, okay? Don’t spend it on booze.”

“I won’t,” his brother pleaded with a plaintive stare. A calf in a slaughterhouse.

“I mean, look at me. Clean and sober for ten years now. Get into a program of some kind. If you need money for it, I’ll foot the bill. I want to see you cleaned up like me.”

His brother stirred four teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. “And that’s another thing. Lay off the sugar. Shit’s bad for you. You wanna go all Dan White some day?”

“Who’s Dan White?”

“Political assassin,” Narcissus said, disdainful at his brother’s ignorance of social and cultural history. “He blamed his madness on too many Twinkies. Anyway, ever see me eating sugar? No.”

“And I want to be just like you,” he said. A whipped puppy.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

Previously: Narcissus Goes Apartment Shopping