Handy-Dandy

“I feel fine today, actually.”

“When you grow up are you going to marry some nice girl and have children? Of course you are, and are you going to make your children eat food that’s good for them? Of course you are! I know that you are! Just put on the coat and go outside.”

“Even if the coat will get dirty?”

“Yeh-es.”

Mom and Buzz—both of whom have gossiped this week—had been sitting down to their lunch. After what seemed a long wait, Buzz, holding his side, complained of an ache.

Mom examined with her fingers, smoothing the phenomenon away. The boy set off for some good fortune along the parched pathway which led away from the pathway. Surrounded by shrubs which had stuck their thorns into him, he had climbed into them. Couldn’t I get out? he thought.

He thought, breathless with the reversal of for­tune, How can I be so clever? What was it my mother said? He contemplated brambles with monoecious flowers and globose fruit of woody carpels.

To him, this midday felt like his first midday, of his not being soothingly cut.