stumbled into the hallway and limped down the steps. As he walked to the kitchen, he rubbed his aching shoulder and knees the whole time. The arthritis in his joints was persistent now, and getting worse. It was especially bad in the mornings.
Oswald could never admit to his wife that he was suffering, however. As it was, Millie was making noises again about selling the farm.
"After all, you're not getting any younger," his wife had argued on Sunday afternoon while they drove home from church. It was not the first time she'd brought up the subject. Oswald shook his head as he fetched the coffee pot and filled it with water.
Millie just doesn't understand, he thought sadly. This land has been in my family for generations. This part of Kansas has always been known as Peaster's Farm... and it will stay Peaster's Farm for as long as I live and breathe.
Once again, Oswald Peaster regretted his eldest son's patriotic decision to join the Army. Instead of taking over the farm and carrying on the family tradition, First Lieutenant Michael Oswald Peaster had died on some forgotten, bloodstained jungle trail in Vietnam twenty-seven years before.
What a waste , Oswald thought as he set up the coffee to brew. Nearly thirty years and I'm still mourning him. It's a bad thing when a father outlives his son.
Oswald sighed and rubbed his shoulder again.
Neither of the Peaster girls wanted a life on the farm , he thought. Not that I blame them. Farm life is harder on women than it is on men.
Oswald thought about his two daughters. He realized he hadn't seen either of them in at least three months. He knew that Millie missed them both terribly.
Anna had married a grain dealer and lived in far-away Wichita. No children yet, but Millie was hopeful. Eleanor, still single, lived closer - she was a beautician in Russell.
Maybe we'll drive down and visit Ellie this Sunday , Oswald thought with a smile. Millie would sure like that.
Absentmindedly, he switched on the radio. Instead of the farm report, he found he was listening to the network news feed out of Alton. The news anchor was droning on in a flat voice.
"The creature that emerged from the Gulf of Mexico is still ravaging coastal cities on the Yucatan Peninsula. Yesterday, the monster destroyed the airport in the city of Merida. Elements of the Mexican Army and Air Force are converging on the area for a possible confrontation..."
Oswald noticed seven cakes lined up on the kitchen table. Five of them had chocolate icing. The other two were topped with vanilla. A piece of cake would sure go good with my coffee , he mused.
Oswald's mouth Watered, but he resisted the temptation. The cakes were for the bake sale. And anyway, his doctor had warned him off fatty food because his cholesterol level was too high.
What do they expect from an old man? he wondered. I'm seventy-two now - how much longer do they want me alive and paying taxes, anyway?
Finally, the coffee was done, and Oswald Peaster poured himself a steaming mugful. Then he sat down at the table and listened as the announcer droned on.
What time does Paul Harvey come on? he wondered.
"In other news, it's just sixty-six days until doomsday, and according to a NASA spokesman, Operation EarthFirst is ahead of schedule. In just ten more days, the space shuttle Discovery will launch from Cape Canaveral, carrying a payload of nuclear weapons into Earth's orbit. These weapons will be fired at the approaching asteroids in the hope of destroying them. In a statement issued by -"
Oswald snorted and switched over to the farm report.
The end of the world , he scoffed. Pastor Bob has been predicting the end of time since Millie and I started going to his church.
It ain't happened yet, and I don't reckon it will happen this time, either...
Oswald took another sip of his coffee, still eyeing the freshly baked cakes spread out in front of him. But as he reached over to scoop up a fingerful of vanilla icing, the electricity suddenly went
Oswald could never admit to his wife that he was suffering, however. As it was, Millie was making noises again about selling the farm.
"After all, you're not getting any younger," his wife had argued on Sunday afternoon while they drove home from church. It was not the first time she'd brought up the subject. Oswald shook his head as he fetched the coffee pot and filled it with water.
Millie just doesn't understand, he thought sadly. This land has been in my family for generations. This part of Kansas has always been known as Peaster's Farm... and it will stay Peaster's Farm for as long as I live and breathe.
Once again, Oswald Peaster regretted his eldest son's patriotic decision to join the Army. Instead of taking over the farm and carrying on the family tradition, First Lieutenant Michael Oswald Peaster had died on some forgotten, bloodstained jungle trail in Vietnam twenty-seven years before.
What a waste , Oswald thought as he set up the coffee to brew. Nearly thirty years and I'm still mourning him. It's a bad thing when a father outlives his son.
Oswald sighed and rubbed his shoulder again.
Neither of the Peaster girls wanted a life on the farm , he thought. Not that I blame them. Farm life is harder on women than it is on men.
Oswald thought about his two daughters. He realized he hadn't seen either of them in at least three months. He knew that Millie missed them both terribly.
Anna had married a grain dealer and lived in far-away Wichita. No children yet, but Millie was hopeful. Eleanor, still single, lived closer - she was a beautician in Russell.
Maybe we'll drive down and visit Ellie this Sunday , Oswald thought with a smile. Millie would sure like that.
Absentmindedly, he switched on the radio. Instead of the farm report, he found he was listening to the network news feed out of Alton. The news anchor was droning on in a flat voice.
"The creature that emerged from the Gulf of Mexico is still ravaging coastal cities on the Yucatan Peninsula. Yesterday, the monster destroyed the airport in the city of Merida. Elements of the Mexican Army and Air Force are converging on the area for a possible confrontation..."
Oswald noticed seven cakes lined up on the kitchen table. Five of them had chocolate icing. The other two were topped with vanilla. A piece of cake would sure go good with my coffee , he mused.
Oswald's mouth Watered, but he resisted the temptation. The cakes were for the bake sale. And anyway, his doctor had warned him off fatty food because his cholesterol level was too high.
What do they expect from an old man? he wondered. I'm seventy-two now - how much longer do they want me alive and paying taxes, anyway?
Finally, the coffee was done, and Oswald Peaster poured himself a steaming mugful. Then he sat down at the table and listened as the announcer droned on.
What time does Paul Harvey come on? he wondered.
"In other news, it's just sixty-six days until doomsday, and according to a NASA spokesman, Operation EarthFirst is ahead of schedule. In just ten more days, the space shuttle Discovery will launch from Cape Canaveral, carrying a payload of nuclear weapons into Earth's orbit. These weapons will be fired at the approaching asteroids in the hope of destroying them. In a statement issued by -"
Oswald snorted and switched over to the farm report.
The end of the world , he scoffed. Pastor Bob has been predicting the end of time since Millie and I started going to his church.
It ain't happened yet, and I don't reckon it will happen this time, either...
Oswald took another sip of his coffee, still eyeing the freshly baked cakes spread out in front of him. But as he reached over to scoop up a fingerful of vanilla icing, the electricity suddenly went
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