On Yelling
Communication for the spatially challenged.
7 min readAug 21, 2021
--
“KEN, DON’T FORGET THE TOMATOES,” Nan crowed from the kitchen. Her wet head, still partially loaded with large pink curlers, hung over the kitchen sink while she rinsed out a self-perm. “FEEL THEM TO MAKE SURE THEY’RE RIPE. KEN.”
Down the rickety steps, Pa fled for his chariot — the Chevy Luv. Nan’s love call pressed his biological accelerator…