Charles
Charles by Dave Wright I was lying on my back. Charles was on top of me. Gravel ground into my back as I attempted to squirm into a more comfortable position. I squinted to get a better view of his belly. We were having another spat. I shouted, “I’m just trying to help you.” My efforts were rewarded with a trickle of warm fluid that ran down my forearm. “Is that pee?” I never liked Charles, but he was my wife’s first love, so I put up with him…for a time. She claimed their relationship was plutonic. I had my doubts. He came into our relationship like a favorite pet. How could I refuse to adopt him? The love of my life at the time was The Doba , a regal ‘76 Chrysler Cordoba with a hood ornament so far away it was out of focus from the driver’s seat. Charles first met The Doba in the Eustis Avenue apartment parking lot. Charles threw an immediate fit of jealousy. Charles was the color of a rotting cherry. The Doba sported a sparling tan exterior with a two-tone vinyl roof