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%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK178 Jack Fritscherday, years before, a house where he lived burned to the ground destroying all his books and papers and dead parents%u2019 pictures. He had offered his loss up to the will of God. But standing, watching everything burn, he had clenched his features into an expression of hard resignation and when the fire was out he could never remember how to unlock his face.Looking down at me, he seemed to be seeing the fire engines of hell arriving again and again too late.He looked immensely funny. I could not care to move. I was inside the transcendence of egg.%u201cWhy aren%u2019t you in class?%u201dHe put his huge hands on my shoulders and sat me up on the bed.%u201cI didn%u2019t feel like going.%u201d%u201cYou didn%u2019t feel like going? Is that a reason or an excuse?%u201d%u201cI have a headache.%u201dHe yanked me up from the bed.%u201cGet up. Get your cassock on.%u201d%u201cGet your hands off me.%u201d%u201cWhat kind of strange little boy are you?%u201dHe slapped me hard across my chest.The flat of his big Iowa farmer%u2019s hand stunned me. Nobody had ever hit me before.%u201cGet downstairs with the other boys.%u201dMy eyes burned with tears, but I held back, so tight, the tears stung like steam evaporating.%u201cWhy don%u2019t you fit in here?%u201d%u201cI fit in here fine.%u201d%u201cDon%u2019t contradict me.%u201d%u201cI fit in here fine.%u201d%u201cYou%u2019re not one of us.%u201d%u201cWhat the fuck do you want?%u201dHe slapped me across the face. He screamed: %u201cAre you the Boy Anti-Christ?%u201dWater, not tears, ran down my cheeks.He hissed: %u201cYou%u2019re the reason Jesus wept.%u201dHe watched me silently vest, take my theology books, and leave him standing alone in my room.When I returned after class, the novels and plays were gone. The driftwood sculpture was splintered. The bed lay ripped to shreds. My shoe box was tossed spilled-out across the floor. I slammed the door on the mess he%u2019d made.