the foxman
taken from the 1977 gary paulsen book.
it’s strange, how things happen and they don’t turn out like you think they will.
a little sleep and you’ll be as good as new.
and that’s a kind of love. having somebody do that for you.
because it’s snowing. hard.
you’re awake. how do you feel?
drink it hot so it gets down.
it’s nothing to worry about. you go to sleep.
there isn’t much time to be a kid out here.
kind of cut my arm. a little.
damn, it seems like yesterday.
but life has a way of pulling the rug out from under you just when you need it least.
i fought sleep as hard as i could.
you can’t stay here, you’ll die.
there was beauty then – beauty and love. then it all went to hell.
i’ll stay as long as it takes, as long as you need me.
just double-checking to make sure there isn’t anything wrong.
i know, i know. it’s all right now.
don’t worry – it’s all over now.
it seems like everything they call growing up has to jerk your guts out and just about wreck you and i’ve never been able to understand why that’s supposed to be good for you.
it just sounded dumb to me.
which made what happened a lot harder to live with, i can tell you.
sometimes it would be nice if life just kept happening the way it’s happening, if things got to a good place and just stayed there, didn’t change.
they have to try or it was all for nothing, and nobody likes to do something all for nothing.
this place gives me the creeps.
it’s dumber than falling in love and freezing your ears until the lobes almost fall off.
i think it’s sad. that’s what i think.
always ask the second question. don’t just ask why, but why why?
i figured you’d need a colorful picture to look at – cheer you up.
i just wanted to see you, i guess, talk to you.
we’re about the same age but you act a lot more grown up.
there was no way to tell it was going to happen the way it happened, no way to stop it, really, even if i’d known it was coming.
i was thinking of a time and place that you couldn’t understand and should never have to understand.