The following is an untitled short story that is currently in revision. This excerpt may or may not reflect the final draft of the story.

Well I guess I should tell you right off that I am just a regular guy, just like old Dave from next door and Simon from homeroom. I’m certainly more normal than that Pete Samson, but I don’t think there are many guys my age that aren’t. Old Pete is a real doozie. ‘You can say that again.’ That’s what my old buddy Dave would say.

I like baseball just as much the next Joe Blow, and of course I’m a Red Sox fan. My pop would probably have a stroke if I didn’t tell you I was a Red Sox fan. He’s had tickets since you had to buy ‘em off a stegosaurus. We go sometimes when the season rolls around – especially when they play the yanks. My pop will dang near bust a blood vessel when they play the yanks.

My pop was in that war in Korea and hasn’t done much since. Most of the time if the Red Sox aren’t playing he’s sitting around watching TV in his tighty whities and rubbing his leg. He got shot while he was over there, but don’t ask him to tell you the story. Sometimes I think he’s too sore about his leg to work, but I wouldn’t say that to him. They still pay him even though he can’t be in the army any more, so I guess it’s alright.

Ma works at the textile mill on the west side, and still gets up and fixes breakfast for me and Suze every morning. Suze always points and says “Jae eat all the bacon!” It cracks me up how she always misses the ‘k’ in my name, but she can still say ‘bacon.’ Suze is always doing stuff like that, stuff that will really crack you up.

I go to Charlton Heights, over by the old hospital. I have to walk there because the bus doesn’t run to our house and we don’t have a car. My homeroom teacher is this old battle axe Mrs. Morris, and she sounds like a siren going off when you come in late. Old Dave and I come in late sometimes if we stop off for comics first. Depends on what time we leave, but sometimes we can make it to Mr. Newman’s for a quick read before school. I like Superman. Old Dave is a Batman fan.

Before I tell you what happened, I want you to know that I know stealing is not the right thing to do. If I told my Pop I was caught stealing he would probably knock me square in the jaw. He would say something like “you know better than that now, your Pop taught you better than taking something from someone” and then he would knock me right in the jaw. See, my Pop says that after you’re 12 you’re old enough to get hit like a man. I got caught mocking my Ma one night when she told me to clean my plate and he dang near knocked me out of my chair. My Ma got real upset because she doesn’t like to see him hit me, but my Pop says it’s the best thing that can happen to a boy my age. I don’t see how he could call it the best, but I know that it keeps me from upsetting him. Anytime I think about doing something I ought not do, I just think about telling him and suddenly I don’t want to do it anymore. I guess it’s a good thing after all, as long as you don’t do anything that would upset him.

So anyway, here’s how it happened. One day on the way to school Dave and I stopped by Mr. Newman’s and old Dave decided he really wanted this Batman comic he was reading. Problem is, old Dave’s Dad got laid off like two weeks ago and his mom isn’t around – so old Dave is a little light on dough. I told him I could probably hit my pop up for some dough after school but Dave wouldn’t budge. He just kept staring at this comic with this weird look in his eye like he was going to cry or something over some stupid Batman comic. He doesn’t even have any powers for crying out loud!