Norman Coopersmith sat at his desk going through the books. Sheet metal had been on the rise for the last few months, and the company's profits were doing very well. He double checked his numbers once more and, after correcting a few minor mistakes, clocked out for the day.
He rode his bike home. He did have a car, but it was pointless to try to drive it in this traffic. Norman would arrive home faster this way, and the exercise saved him from having to do cardio at the gym.
When he rode through his suburban neighborhood, he saw children playing on their lawns in swimming suits. It seemed to be the oldest method of play in existence. That and some form of cowboys and indians.
His home wasn't large, but it was very well kept. The lawn was trimmed, and the new paint job he had finished last week looked great. It was a muted blue grey. He opened the garage and left his bike chained up on the the side opposite all of his tools. Coopersmith had been doing carpentry for most of his life, but had never been good enough to do it professionally. He enjoyed it, and the various projects he made were used as family heirlooms.
Norman went into his home through the garage into the kitchen. His wife, Jennifer, was busily chopping up carrots. After kissing her cheek, he asked her what was being made for dinner.
"Chicken noodle soup and mashed potatoes."
"Anything I can do to help?"
She gestured to a large pot of boiling water filled with potatoes. "If you could please peel and chop those potatoes for me, that would be great."
He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands.
"How was your day, honey?" He asked.
"It wasn't that great. You know the clerk, Shawna?"
Norman gave her a blank look.
"You met her at the last Christmas party. She was the one with the long black hair and red dress."
He continued the blank look.
A sigh. "She had the biggest tits there."
"Ohhhh… Yeah, what about her?"
"She misfiled the entire Renson case folder. I'm going to have to go back on Saturday to get the project done by Monday."
Jennifer was a tax attorney. She loved the organization and precision but absolutely abhorred human interaction. Even in a career that was based on very little communication, any contact with a human drained her.
Norman had finished peeling the potatoes and was now chopping them into small pieces.
"Where's Morgan? He over at Sheen's again playing Warhammer?"
Jennifer nodded.
"He gonna be home for dinner or are Sheen's parents feeding him again?"
"He's eating at Sheen's. Marla says we owe her a week's worth of meals."
Norman chuckled. Morgan was seventeen year old boy, and his appetite proved it. He and Sheen had been friends since kindergarten and spent a good deal of time playing board games. Norman and Jennifer had never been into sports when they were younger, and they saw no need to force their child into basketball or football.
Mr. Coopersmith added milk and butter to the mixture and began mashing the potatoes. Before long, the dish was ready to serve. The couple set out bowls and silverware and sat down to eat.
After they were finished, Norman sank down into his chair and numbed his brain for a few minutes by watching mindless exploitative gore in the form of Friday the 13th: Part 2.
"Thanks for doing the dishes tonight," he called from his chair.
"No problem, baby. Your turn tomorrow."
He grunted to himself.
Morgan came home close to the end of the film. He sat down on the couch and whipped out his laptop.
"You get your homework done?" Norman asked.
"I've got it all done, but would you please check this English paper I've got to hand in tomorrow?"
Morgan's dad said yes and took the laptop from his son.
The paper was for some generic argumentative assignment. The title was Not Enough Evidence. It was a six page paper poking holes in Christianity and other faiths, and then supporting his own claim that there was no God.
"You're using the word 'so' a bunch. Right here: '...the evidence for God is so weak.'' Either get rid of the word or replace it with something stronger. Umm…"
A few more moments of silence, save the TV playing screams in the background.
"And here you're a bit wordy." He pointed to a paragraph and told his son how he might go about fixing it.
"Other than that, you're good. Great job, Morgan."
Morgan took back his laptop and made the changes his dad had suggested. Then he shut it and stared at the TV till around ten, yawned, and told his parents he was going to bed.
Jennifer told her husband to scoot over and they held each other. Norman picked out another random film, and cuddled with his wife.
"We got so lucky with Morgan."
Norman agreed. "Yeah, he turned out really well. We've done pretty good so far."
They held each other a bit longer and then retired to bed.
Norman woke at 4:30am and got dressed for the day. On his dresser was a shadow box with his picture in it along with the various medals he had received after twenty years of military service. There were also various pieces of pottery, and other such memorabilia.
Off to the side of a jade elephant there was a single playing card of the Joker.