by Gray, Amelia
Buckshot catching a rabbit.
Naming a dog Buckshot seems a cruel thing, like telling the dog he will never be as effective as his namesake. Such an insult is similar to giving a boy the name of his father.
A mocking bird bringing material for a nest. A little late, but it will soon house four eggs.
A little late, thinks the mocking bird, settling down over her doomed eggs. Her mate brings the sliced-off top of a strawberry for her. He perches on the side of the nest and watches her eat the rare treat. He watches the strawberry, which he still tastes on his beak. He watches the eggs upon which his mate sits. A little late, he says. A little late, she responds. It becomes part of their call to one another: A-little-late! A-little-late!
A big crane walking in the slough.
The big crane resolved to kill the goose when he got it alone. He walked the slough for hours, moving slowly from his nest across the field to the spot where the goose would be sounding its rasping call. When he arrives, the big crane sees the goose is not alone. In fact, the goose has an entire audience of pitiable folk. A family with young children watches, mouths agape. Three men stand in a group with their cigarettes. A young woman sits in the passenger seat of an auto, weeping. The big crane, not given to sentimentality, turns and walks home.
A road runner hastening across the new road grade.
A road that slices through shoes leaves no trace on the bird. It is a magical bird on a magical road, the kind of road that chooses its travelers instead of the other way around. This road dreams of becoming less traveled. Orioles flock to the road and line up in rows on either side. They dive after bugs flying off windshields as the autos paint a deep insult of two matching grooved tracks. The road groans and is compressed.
Way off yonder a dog howls.
That damn dog is laughing.
The recent heavy rain insures a good crop so says Gus Franzen.
Gus Franzen stands before his ruined Come-Inn, which inspectors determined was a danger to the public. Workers come from Galveston with notices and boards, stepping over rows of rags. They shutter the place far more efficiently than he ever ran it. Gus Franzen watches them work. After the men are gone, he collects the rags one by one and puts them in a basket.
TRIP ADVISORY: THE BOYHOOD HOME OF FORMER PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN
Before you visit the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan, you should first note that there are, in actuality, many Boyhood Homes of Former President Ronald Reagan. Choose wisely and you will find yourself in the fully restored Boyhood Home that served as a Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan from 1920 to 1923. It is located in Dixon, Illinois, home of the Petunia Festival.
For the purposes of this report, think of the Dixon, Illinois, home—where Former President Ronald Reagan spent the ninth, 10th, 11th, and 12th years of his life: essential, formative years— as the Definitive Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan and, therefore, as the only Boyhood Home that will be discussed, though he was born above a bakery and surely felt on many occasions the wholesome heat of warm bread.
Very little of the furniture, carpeting, foundation, and artifacts within the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan is original to the site. The reason for this is that old things smell terrible.
Within the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan, you will find Former President Ronald Reagan’s Fully Restored Boyhood Bedroom, featuring items you might expect a 9-, 10-, 11-, or 12-year-old boy to have owned between the years of 1920 and 1923. These items cycle seasonally within the Home and could include baseball cards, autograph books, footballs, and wooden cup-and-ball toys. While Former President Ronald Reagan never actually touched or considered these actual artifacts, you will be encouraged to observe and consider the objects in terms of their importance to Our Nation’s History. Think: Would Former President Ronald Reagan have excelled at cup-and-ball, or would he have swung the toy around by its handle and launched it onto the roof, and how might those actions have later affected his Cold War policy?
The importance of visiting the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan to your personal life is clear and unchallenged. Touring the Home will give you a powerful feeling: You will realize that, in fact, we all had Boyhood or Girlhood homes, and that, though none of us are destined for the greatness that awaited 9-year-old Ronald Reagan, we all have a manner of greatness within us, untapped perhaps for many years, but held there in the heart, like a secret.
One part of the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan serves as a centerpiece to visitors and Boyhood Home employees: four pennies, hidden in the spaces in the brick wall. Former President Ronald Reagan insisted on replacing the pennies at the final ceremonies for the Restored Boyhood Home, and while he replaced the pennies, he told the lucky crowd in attendance that, as a child, he used to hide money in the bricks of that very wall. Of course, the wall was actually not original, but completely restored, and Former President Ronald Reagan had in fact called ahead to order the workers to leave one brick loose, so that he might tell the story and replace the pennies and please the crowd. The show was always of paramount importance to Former President Ronald Reagan, and, if visitors concentrate, they might be able to picture an 11-year-old Ronald Reagan hiding the pennies in the bricks of the wall and dreaming of the day that he might place different pennies in restored bricks, put there specially for him, so that he might tell the story.
It should be noted that the four pennies in the brick within the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan are not the pennies that Ronald Reagan placed within the brick while telling the story at the final ceremonies for the Restored Boyhood Home. The pennies are actually replica pennies, but are within view of the Actual Pennies Former President Ronald Reagan used during the ceremony. The Actual Pennies are of great value and are mounted to a plaque over the mantle. The replica pennies, meanwhile, have their own worth beyond monetary value, for they act as a symbol of a symbol of a very powerful symbol.
Visitors are advised to take care in preparing for the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan. All are encouraged to wash their hands before touching doorknobs and rails, to wear shoes with soft soles, and to speak quietly and with reverence. Visitors are reminded to refrain from flash photography, to not carry in food or drink, and to take the time to respect each orderly room of the Boyhood Home of Former President Ronald Reagan, because it is integral to the history of the world, because it is sacred ground.
CODE OF OPERATION: SNAKE FARM
The thing is that everyone is jealous and I hate to say it but everyone is jealous because I am finally creating a SNAKE FARM which has been my lifelong dream, and I spent a very long time in the world saving up for this dream to become a reality as they say on the television for this dream to become a reality and at each of the jobs (gas station, collision repair, hardware store) I pinched the pennies and thought about how to create a SNAKE FARM that will really appeal to the masses and I came up with a plan and detailed it in a notebook because I have always been told that I have fine organizational skills. The plan is as follows:
Safety First!
The goal of the SNAKE FARM is not only to make lots of $$$ but to show the public once and for all that SNAKES are not FRIGHTENING, many are not even DEADLY but that they are SAFE and often FRIENDLY. It is therefore important that the snakes who are a danger to the community be placed under wire mesh cages and that only trained professionals such as myself will handle the snakes. In the occasion that a garter/green snake seems interested in being touched, children may hold and touch the snakes. Pythons will be touched but not while digesting because disturbing the lunch of a snake is cruel.
Care and Comfort!
It should be known that SNAKES are not used to THE GOOD LIFE. They are used to being compared with evil, being that they have no legs, being that they tempted that woman, being that they DO have the ability to defend themselves. If visitors only realized that many of us have the ability to
defend ourselves but that we do not advertise this ability with fangs, they could understand how CLOSE we are to snakes. In the meantime, the habitat of the snakes will be improved with soft dirt, places to shed scales (dark places), fresh food (living) and other surprises that even the snakes could not foresee.
Visiting Hours!
The snakes do not live in a hospital and should therefore not be confined to the hours that a nameless faceless ENTITY has chosen for them. Obviously the snakes cannot talk but their disposition on any given day will determine the SNAKE FARM hours of operation. If for example the snakes are coiled around a tree, the hours will be shortened. If the snakes seem interested in visiting by displaying tendencies (sunning themselves on rocks, showing healthy appetite), hours will be extended until the snakes are tired of this treatment. The hours of operation will be determined daily via a MAJORITY VOTE among the snakes.
Owner Tours!
As the proprietor of the SNAKE FARM and owner of the land the snakes the cages the information kiosk and the refreshment stand I WILL PERSONALLY give special behind-the-scenes tours to all willing to pay a slightly accelerated fee. Visitors paying this fee will have the pleasure of seeing 1) the holding pens and preparation for feeding time, 2) the process of preserving sheddings, and 3) the OWNER’S OFFICE which contains many plans for future expanding, including a small coaster ride for children, coasters being the obvious choice as they are snake-shaped and children riding along them will understand the serpentine quality of many things.
Suggested Dress!
All visitors to the SNAKE FARM will be advised to come prepared with the proper clothing which will be: long pants for the men and children, shoes with closed-toes, shirts untucked (important in case of accidental snake release). Long dresses for ladies, to make it difficult for snakes to cling (in case of accidental release). Ladies will be advised to wear a floral print in soft colors, to soothe and comfort the snakes. Fellow visitors and employees of the SNAKE FARM may be soothed and comforted incidentally but the snakes in THIS and ALL situations are the #1 PRIORITY.
Research Projects!
The SNAKE FARM will become a center of research for the county, drawing students from public schools as well as scholars from the local farm and community colleges. Because of the potential for RESEARCH on interesting and unusual snakes there will be a special day set aside for these students to observe and experiment. Of course the snakes will be cared for and at ANY SIGN OF DISTRESS the experiment will be OVER and the SNAKE FARM will go into LOCKDOWN. To avoid contamination and maintain a professional atmosphere, lab coats will be provided.
Feeding Time!
Digestion time is a special personal time for snakes but one of the most fascinating times to observe a snake is during FEEDING TIME directly prior. It should be known that many snakes actually enjoy putting on a show for an audience during this time, much to the dismay of the animal which will be consumed but as a capitalistic venture and as a favor to the snakes, FEEDING TIME will be announced and may be observed at the visitor’s discretion. It will be advised that children observe, because contrary to popular belief, the mind of a child can take in much more horror than that of an adult, that it can be a detriment in fact to deprive a child of the facts of life as they say on television the facts of life.
What to Expect!
Visitors to the SNAKE FARM will see snakes in great number and variation. They will see milk snakes and ball pythons and garter snakes, and vipers and rattlesnakes and king snakes and adder snakes and diamondback snakes, and tiger snakes corn snakes cottonmouth snakes asp snakes rat snakes. Many inferior SNAKE FARMS try to keep and show other animals such as turtles alligators bats and baboons but I as owner and proprietor of this SNAKE FARM will insist that there only be snakes. THERE WILL BE ONLY SNAKES.
THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE
When the tortoise walked in, the hare nearly cried out in misery. He had been promised visitors by the night nurse, who was pretty and gave him an extra serving of gelatin when he asked. The hare had made the old mistake and figured that someone so pretty would never give him bad news, but there he was, and here was the tortoise.
“Hello,” said the tortoise. A bouquet of wilting lilies was taped to his shell.
“It’s good to see you,” murmured the hare. Perhaps if he pretended it hurt to open his eyes, the tortoise would leave. The hare squinted and squirmed.
Oblivious, the tortoise attempted to sit in the chair by the bedside. He did this by leaning back, supporting his weight with his hind legs, and then hefting his front legs onto the chair. The chair, on casters, rolled back. The tortoise lumbered to where the chair had rolled and repeated the process again. Finally, he got the chair wedged between the bed and the IV unit. He pitched his body upwards, scrabbling at the upholstery. If the night nurse walked by, she would surely assume the tortoise was attempting to mount the chair. Perhaps she would call security.
The tortoise dug in with his claws, pulled himself into the seat and turned around to face the hare, crushing the flowers taped to his back in the process. His breathing was laborious. “I hear you are dying,” the tortoise said.
That’s a delicate way to put it, thought the hare. “Indeed I am,” he said. “They gave me eight weeks to live a year ago, and I beat the odds.”
The tortoise nodded.
Asshole, thought the hare. “I was real outspoken about it for a while,” he said. “I got into the paper. The thing was, I was just taking multivitamins and running every day, then I did a whole-body cleanse every two weeks.” He stretched his legs and felt the diminished muscle tone.
“The odds caught up,” said the tortoise. With his big eyes, he did seem a little doleful. Then again, he always did. He clearly hadn’t cleaned his shell before the visit and smelled like a distant scummy pond. Talk about a sanitary environment, the hare thought.
The hare pressed on. “Everybody’s got to go sometime,” he said. “You’ll go. Maybe you’ll get the cancer and die next year. I can’t imagine you’d have too much trouble succumbing to the odds, as it were. No offense to you, but it takes some serious mental acuity.”
“I’m not sure,” the tortoise said, “that tortoises can get the cancer.” He was trying unsuccessfully to reach around his massive shell to the flowers. He plucked one petal off in his claw and brought it close to his eye, frowning. Perhaps he wanted to eat it.
“Don’t worry about the flowers,” said the hare. “I saw them when you came in. They were very nice Easter lilies. Daylilies are my favorite but they’re a bit rare, a bit hard to find. You might find a daylily in a soup if you look in the right place. You’d have to travel across the ocean but you might just find it in China. Can you imagine it? A flower in a soup. Believe it or not, and I suggest you believe it.”
The tortoise sighed. “Friend,” he said.
The hare looked at the place where the night nurse had shaved his fur to insert the IV needle. The skin was puckered and red in the shaved place. “I guess you win,” the hare said.
“There never was a race,” said the tortoise. His shell wobbled a little as he scooted the chair forward and leaned precariously over to touch the hare’s paw with the flat portion of his beak. The hare could feel the warm air streaming from the tortoise’s nostrils, the cool air rushing in. The hare closed his eyes and pretended to sleep until the tortoise left. He breathed evenly with noise of the machine hooked up to his body. The night nurse came and went. It was a very long wait indeed.
FISH
Dale was married to a paring knife and Howard was married to a bag of frozen tilapia. Each had fallen into their respective arrangements having decided independently that there was no greater match for them in life.
When anyone asked Dale if he had dated actual women before making the decision to marry a paring knife, he would look at that person with such incredulity that the stranger would feel as if they had been rude to inquire. Dale did love his paring knife. They had their problems, like any couple.
/> Obviously, Howard admitted, a bag of frozen tilapia was different in many ways from a woman, though in many ways it was the same.
* * *
Howard arrived early to Dale’s apartment and found the man finishing breakfast. The paring knife was propped up against a book on the table and Dale’s galoshes were next to the door.
“Morning,” Dale said. “Coffee?”
Howard accepted a cup and waited at the table. “Warm out,” he said. He liked to keep talking to a minimum until they got on the water.
“I know it,” Dale said from the other room. “We went on a walk and watched the sun rise across the field. Sweat right through my shirt.”
The paring knife was stuck into its usual cork. Howard felt that keeping it out on display was a little silly. When he brought his portable cooler out with him and people asked questions, he said he was a diabetic and needed special medicine. He didn’t bother making people understand his personal life. That’s why it was called a personal life, Howard figured.
