they sat there often, she and the boy.
he had the strangest things to say.
of course, he would tell you, she had the strangest things not to say.
ah.
here he comes over the hill.
before he even sits down to put his feet in the clear brook, he will begin.
sure enough.
what was he saying?
clouds.
vitamins.
jello.
book.
paper.
eyes.
typewriters.
cats.
purple.
he drew breath.
she thrust her hand into the water.
she jerked out a large catfish.
slapped him with it.
and threw it kindly back in with a plop.
the fish, frazzled by contact with the boy's face, surfaced his guppy head.
"next time i'll bite off your nose, boy!"
he growled, as fishes do, and promptly swam away.

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