Dr Jew

sweet and wicked angels looking down on me. Thank you for this chance. Ho! Once more unto the breach.
    At times like this, I wonder how my Adam and Eve fare in this barbaric world.

XXXI.

    We stopped and ate hamburgers on the way back to the house and Vinny got food poisoning so we brought him back to our house and let him lie down on the couch till he felt better. He barely moved all day and when he started feeling good again it was late and he said he didn't want to leave until we divided up the loot and Uncle Dave said he was too tired and we'd do it in the morning. For now the money would stay in the safe. Vinny watched Uncle Dave put it in the office next to my bed and then I said good night and Uncle Dave seemed happy and Vinny seemed happy so I was happy and tried to sleep.
    I kept seeing that thin man Jimmy with those shark teeth and his head go PLAT. It just went PLAT. I didn't see why Uncle Dave had to go and do that. It didn't make sense. It made it so hard to go to sleep. And why had Uncle Dave wanted me to make the man's head go PLAT? I missed ma and wanted to go home more than any other time and I thought of getting up in the dark of the night and going quiet down the stairs past Vinny on the couch sleeping and opening the door and never looking back, just getting on a bus back to the farm whatever the cost, and if I didn't have the money it wouldn't matter. I'd hold on and sit down and not budge and they'd have to move the bus eventually because they got schedules to keep, I know how they work. But then I thought it's a long way from San Francisco to Mississippi, at least a couple hours, and some point I'd need to get off and use the boys room and what if that bus left without me? And I know what I'd do. I'd just ask the gas station or whoever else I could find the direction to Mississippi and start walking till I got there. And if it took more than a day I would lie down and sleep and eat leaves and such when I got hungry and drink rain and whatever else it is alleycats drink, and I'd get to Mississippi and the farm before long and everything'd be well again and no more PLAT exploding people with guns that makes it hard to get some sleep because a boy should be home with his ma not off in this place having strange adventures.
    But I got to thinking how it wasn 't all bad and such and I got to see Uncle Dave and Aunt Anne and meet Ueda Sensei and Vinny and Adam and Eve (why did I always think I heard their names somewhere before?) and see all kinds of things and that woman Uncle Dave introduced me to in Chinatown that showed me all her private stuff and I never even could tell ma about that in my letters, and the pink lemonade and learning to fight with jiu-jitsu and all the food Aunt Anne makes with special sugar and stuff. I guess there would be things I would miss in San Francisco too. It seems the more I thought about it the more I was reconsidering until I remembered the letters Uncle Dave showed me and the smile I could see on ma's face when I arrived by bus or by foot (it didn't matter as long as I got there) would crack and vanish and be replaced by a sad or angry face saying, Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to stay in San Francisco with your uncle? Get back on that bus or on foot whichever way you came here and take yourself back to San Francisco and this time do as I tell you. And I would have wasted a few hours or days each way and back again and plus she'd be mad at me and everyone in San Francisco'd be mad or sad at me 'cause of leaving. So the more I thought about it in the dark alone and quiet and warm and sleep starting to sound more and more better and walking in the street sounding more and more tiresome and cold out there and meddlesome so that the man going PLAT his head was already starting to go away a little so that I figured I'd stay at least one more day till we divided up the money so at least I could buy a bus ticket and say goodbye to folks and have a good night's sleep, which ma always says makes just about everything a little better by morning.

XXXII.

    When it came (morning) the sun was up and Swan felt good, rested. He stumbled downstairs and saw the couch was empty.
    "Vinny?" said Swan.
    From the kitchen the sizzling of egg sound and Swan's nose followed the crackling greasefat of bacon too, the salty thick richness that he'd known ubiquitously since a boy and that always made him think of Mississippi and the farm, however far away it might be. It reminded him of