tommie

His name is Tom and he’s a Vietnam vet, never married, never moved from his folks’ house. They’re both long dead – his parents – but he keeps the place, though just about as you’d imagine. It isn’t a pretty sight. He doesn’t date, has little of a social life, outside of family gatherings, where he’s given wide berth because of his laundry habits, which are often lacking. He’s a smart guy; he saves his money. In fact, he owns three “properties.” It’s not easy to find him, though not too difficult, either, if that makes any sense. He sees a lot of movies. Not the junkie ones. Those with some substance, real or alleged. And indies. He loves indies. They make him feel like someone, indie as he is, himself, or considers himself. He brings his own popcorn and soda, and all the ticket clerks on the east side know him by name. He gave up hoping to meet someone years ago, much less someone who liked movies as much as he did. So, he always sees them alone. He pretends he’s in them, leaves the theater feeling better about himself. He doesn’t have a dog. He needs a dog. If he had one, he’d name it Shane. Or Rooster Cogburn. Even if it was a girl.