Duke

It has been a lot of years since I last saw Duke.  Thankfully.  He was one of those characters, the only character I've ever met that brings to mind Daffy Duck, "disssspicable".  That isn't to say Duke wasn't likable.  It wasn't "wherein Oliver is delivered over to Mr. William Sikes".  Much more sinister in that he was likable, or worse, I kinda liked him.

 

To find the newspaper clearly arranged so that the article on his death could not be overlooked, simply meant I couldn't overlook his death.  It seemed so strangely fitting, not that he had died, nor that he should have been dead probably many years ago...no the image of his death fit the image of his life.  Murdered by strangulation, his partially clothed body strewn across a bed, like a dirty sock on a dirty floor.  I can picture the dark hotel room in Costa Rica,  sort of "Apocalypse Now", the fan beating...but no light, maybe some flashing red neon.  It seems fitting.  I hope I can find a fitting way to die.  .

 

Duke was proud he was a Vietnam Vet.  He hated he was a Vietnam Vet.  He loved his disability.  He hated Agent Orange.  He loved the sloppy, moldy, wasted side of people.  He hated everyone.  He took from everyone equally...all he could get.  His payment his worthless promise, a wise man would see that value.