Chapter 5
| The Story | The Authors |
|---|---|
| Then I began to ponder my own makeup. Who was I, poor wretched sinner saved only by the grace of God, to criticize one of His own creatures. I am also made of the clay fashioned by God, the purest and most fine being of all. Purity is admirable, yes, but only attainable through salvation. To yearn to be something more can lead to ultimate disaster as seen in the life of Lucifer. To yearn to be pure is the ultimate desire a Christian will have once he has been saved. I immediately recognized the value of the dog, and as Christ did for me, I took him home and made him my own. | |
| On the long walk back to my home I encountered an old lady. She tried to offer me a bit of partially eaten candy for the cigeratte that I was smoking. I gratefully traded the old woman, i didn't need that cigeratte anyway. My new little dig barked at the poor lady. I tugged at the leash on the dog and it turned away from the woman and looked at me in discust. I thought that I wouldn't like it either if someone was tugging at my neck with a rope. Then and there I decided I would rather be a cat. | |
| Because cats are lazy and spoiled. Get to be rubbed on the tummy all the time. Plus, no baths for the cats | |
| Well only lots of licks | |
| Hello... how are you? | |
| " said the smelly old mule as he walked to market one fine September Morn. | |
| he looked inside a shoe shop and was sad when he realized he couldn't get basketball shoes to fit. | |
| After all, basketball shoes were the best footwear available. Anything to be like Michael Jordan. Mike's the best. His slam dunking is amazing. Every one should worship Michael Jordan | |
| Sure basketball shoes are cool anything to be like Mike. But it is not the shoes that really count, but it is what you put into them like hard work. When I can afford them maybe I will buy them but for now I will just wear the old sneakers my mom gave me for my Birthday. | |
| Yes, the sneakers mom gave me for my birthday. That was the last time mom and I had so much fun. I'll never forget that day. We went to the park, bought ice cream, she even jumped romp with the girls outside the school. I never thought mom knew how to jump rope. She was always tired when she got home from work, I never saw her strong enough to have much fun. Mom was always working, sometimes two jobs at a time. I think that is why I love these old sneakers so much. Sure they're old and worn out, and I need new ones. But mom took on an extra cleaning job for a week just to buy them for me. Yeah, I'll never forget the fun we had the day mom gave me these sneakers. It was almost as if she knew she wouldn't be around for my next birthday, and she wanted to make the most of our day together. Not six months later she died. | |
| Dad is never around much now. He's working two jobs just to keep his truck on the road and a roof over our heads. He's angry most of the time. And I worry when he doesn't come home until real late on his day off. I wish things could be like they use to be when Mom was alive. Yeah, I need new sneakers, but Dad says I'll have to get another part-time job to pay for them. Between school and my bagging job at the market, I don't have enough time for another job. I try to help Dad whenever I can, but after paying for my own school clothes, and personal stuff, and paying to wash and dry my clothes and his, I don't have much left to give him. | |
| So Dad says I have to give him myself. "Sacrifice is the way of the world kiddo," Dad would always say. Mom was the buffer. Sure things weren't perfect when she was around; we were still living in corners squeezed together at the Grant's house over on Rodman Street. But I was young and Mom could always assuage my fears. Whenever Dad would come home drunk she could soothe him; calm his soul with words and subtle touch, fend him away from me. Now she's gone and I'm his sacrifice. It's not enough to have me taking care of myself. He needs to have me taking care of him, he needs to have me, to have me body and soul. So nightly he takes out his turkey carving knife and slices into my body to extract my soul. I'm afraid that I may soon have no flesh to carve. That's why I keep this girl in a box under my bed. |
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