Page 45 - Demo

%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOKWhat They Did to the Kid 33%u201cYou tried to cover up the pee spot with the blanket, but we could smell it. All over the place. Like some stupid puppy.%u201dDempsey pulled the faded blue spread over the bed. He ignored Hank completely. Standing in the group, I could feel their frenzy rise, electric.%u201cLike some stupid puppy that pees on the rug. Listen, you stupid shit. Quit making that bed and listen. What are you going to do about it?%u201dDempsey, tight lipped, clapped his slippers together, twice, and placed them deliberately at the foot of his bed.%u201cDick, come on. Let%u2019s go,%u201d I said. %u201cWe%u2019ve got class.%u201d%u201cShut up, you priss. Ryanus, you big priss.%u201d Hank turned to Dempsey. %u201cListen, you puppy. You know what we do to stupid-shit puppies that piss on the rug at home?%u201d He reached for the covers and in one thrust stripped the bed right down to the acrid yellow damp. %u201cWe rub their noses in it.%u201dHe jumped on Dempsey, grabbed him in a full-nelson wrestling hold, bent him over the bed, the palms of his hands finger-locked flat behind Dempsey%u2019s red head, pushing his rosy face ha ha ha down, inching his mouth closer and closer to the cold sodden sheet.%u201cCut it out,%u201d I said. %u201cStop it.%u201d I gave Hank, who was as big as a twentyyear-old, a push that hardly moved him.The mob, uneasy, broke up into sheep.%u201cHey, come on,%u201d someone said. %u201cA joke%u2019s a joke.%u201dI pushed Hank again, hard as I could, with the first bell ringing for class, as he shoved Dempsey%u2019s face into his own cold urine. Hank released him, threw him face down across the bed, and turned on me.%u201cJust you wait, Ryanus. Nobody pushes Heinrich Henry Hank Rimski. Just you wait.%u201dHe was Danny Boyle all over again. Boys like Danny were everywhere.October 31, 1953HalloweenThe clocks at Misericordia ran on their own sweet time. At the end of every finite minute they hummed and the big hands all jumped together in one big nervous tick to the next tiny black etching. Time defines a boy%u2019s life. The watched clocks moved so slow, we Misericordia boys existed outside of time, bound on the east by the busy highway and on the west by the slow-rolling river, forbidden to leave the property. We could be an hour or two hours behind the people walking down the streets of Columbus, Ohio, and into the Colonial Drugstore.