An internal monologue
I wrote this at the beginning of senior year in English class.
The monologue
There he speculates on the footpath, a crude cleavage in the vast wilderness: and there he treads this delicate line. His movement is special; a firm gait passes him:
The footpath, covered by gravel, has grass growing only on the center and sides, a gradual change in the tallness of the grass, but tufts of rebel grass grew where ever they wanted. Bug: swat off, bug, crawling on page: swat off, check hand, the snotcovered hand, almost green like the trail itself, cured with salt, and wash well, always. A second guest: a mosquito, I will sting you through those pants don’t think modern clothing helps you this time round I have trained, and perfected, my art. Watch my sting puncture the puffed dual membrane of skin and cloth. Bright speculum. Wishful. A scrap: close cover strike gently; the spindles are gone, but there is evidence: stubs, three, on the ground; the aunt smokes always away from everyone, but it’s no use she brings it back all inside her lungs, he has to turn away, use the hand to direct the odor away, but gently and generously, can’t have her notice, it’s hot anyway so blow it toward someone, a malign favor, more stubs on the center of the path: three more; three-at-a-time smoker, like the aunt herself, finish a pack within the week.
Slugs on the path careful not to step on them dull slugs sully the dull path, only two (one says to the other, what fine spunk you have, to claim the path, the other thinks only of one word, apophallation), evolution taught the others to keep off the path, erratic genes, or slug school they went to where they teach all the slugs of the vast forest the teacher is a raccoon but his arm’s been severed, in his youth, he didn’t want to teach there at first it would mean resigning from life but with time and the judicious use of language by the raccoon chief he came to realize the error in his reasoning why not teach some slugs so they may have a better life so he decided to join but some slug rebels decided not to attend what business does a raccoon have here anyway they joined the rebel grass and the grasses would actually hide the rebel slugs like peasants hiding guerrillas so the people decided to spray the nasty stuff as they call it and now even some unlucky dogs get the nasty stuff on their paws and nose and tongue and where else and so they have to go to the hospital but it’s fine for the dogs they’re domesticated with modern medicine on their side not for the slugs though they have it much tough
The content on this page is in the public domain.