As I lay here, Thurlow J. Bissell: an oil baron from back when that term meant something. Middle school is but a distant memory in the dusky, muddled recesses of my mind. I still don't know what happened after 60. My kids left me, my wife left me long ago, and my only faithful servant, Wilmsfeld, has passed earlier this year. Their spirits live on eternally through these quirky and whimsical characters. A colored nurse put this program on one morn, and what at first was an obscene nuisance is now fueling the flickering candle of my heart. I see the face of Anna and reminiscence on my high school sweetheart, Beatrice. Those cold nights on Lake Ellsworth, the water still glistening on our young bodies. It felt like that summer could last forever. The next year I was fighting the Mexicans in that blistering war. I suppose my mind couldn't handle the bloodshed, turning me into the man I was destined to be. I built an empire on oil, a nation out of twisted steel, sweat, and broken bones. That slick oil rained down on me and washed away the guilt. By the time my sons were born they were merely robbing me of my wealth. I detested them, perhaps that's why I lie on this bed alone all day. But despite the deathly chill I feel, the endearing characters and storylines of this program warm my heart through the day and through the night. One day I will pass this line, for better or for worse, but at least Maya and Anna have made my last waking moments worth my while. For that I am forever grateful.
Review of PEN15
