"Two days before my birthday we're heading for Disneyland. A week there and we fly to where the graves are. Gotta visit cemeteries, buy flowers, put the flowers in the sun where they can die. Hate graves.
Hate Jory's grandmother, who don't like me 'cause I can't dance."
Again she kissed me. "Bart . . tell your parents there have been too many graves in your life. Tell them again how unhappy it makes you feel."
"Won't listen," I said dully. "They don't ask what I want like you do. They just tell me what I have to do."
"I'm sure they'll
listen if you tell them about your dreams of being dead. They'll know then they have taken you too many times into cemeteries. Just tell them the truth."
"But . . but . . ." I sputtered unhappily. "I want Disneyland!"
"You tell them like I said, and I'll take care of Apple."
Felt frantic. Once I turned the care of Apple over to anyone, he'd never be all mine again. I sobbed because life was so impossible. And my plan to escape had to work, it would, had to . . .
We rocked on and on, and she said we were on a sailing ship riding choppy waters to a beautiful island called peace. I lost my land legs, so when I reached there I couldn't stand or find my balance. She disappeared. Alone, all alone. Like on Mars--and way back on Earth Apple was waiting for me to show up. Poor Apple. In the end he'd have to die.
I woke up, I think--where was I? Why was everyone so old? Momma . . . why have you got your face covered with black?
"Wake up, sweetheart. I think you'd better hurry home before your parents become alarmed. You've had a nice nap, so you must feel better."
Next morning I was in the yard trying to finish up that doghouse I was building for Clover. Poor Clover should have had his own house all along, and then he wouldn't have run away looking for one. From Daddy's toolshed I took a hammer, nails, saw, wood, and lugged it out into the yard. I set to. Dratted saw didn't know how to cut straight. Gonna have a crooked house. If Clover complained I'd give him a kick. I picked up my jaggedly sliced board and put it on the roof. Dratted nail! Didn't stand still, made the hammer hit my thumb. Stupid hammer didn't see my fingers! I went right on hammering. Good thing I couldn't feel little pains or I'd be crying. Then I smashed my thumb good and it hurt. Gosh, I was feeling pain like any normal boy.
Jory dashed out of the house yelling at me: "Why are you building a house for Clover when he's been gone two weeks? Nobody has answered our ads. He's no doubt dead by now, and if he does come home he will sleep on the foot of my bed, remember?" Dumb. Dumb, that's what he meant, and Clover might come back. Poor Clover.
I sneaked a glance and saw Jory swipe at the tears in his eyes. "Day after tomorrow we're leaving for Disneyland, and that should make you happy," he said hoarsely. Did it make me happy? My swollen thumb began to ache a little. Apple was gonna die from loneliness.
Then I had an idea. John Amos had told me that prayers brought about miracles, and God was up there in his heaven looking out for dumb animals down here and people too. Momma and Daddy had always told me not to ask for things in my prayers, only blessings for other people, not myself. So, as soon as Jory was gone I threw down my hammer and raced to where I could kneel and pray for my puppy-pony and for Clover. Next I went to Apple, rolling with him on the golden grass, me laughing, him trying to whinny-bark.
His tongue slurped my face with wet kisses. I kissed him back. When he lifted his leg and aimed at the roses--I took off my pants and let go too. We did everything together.
It came to me then just what to do. "Don't you worry none, Apple. I'll only spend one week in Disneyland before I come back to you. I'll hide your puppy-pony biscuits under the hay and leave the water tap dripping in your pail. But don't you dare eat or drink anything John Amos gives you, or my grandmother either. Don't you let anybody bribe you with goodies."
He wagged his tail, telling me he'd be good and obey my orders. He'd made a big pile of do-do. I picked it up and squashed it through my fingers, letting him know I was a part of him now and he was really mine I wiped my hands on the grass and saw ants come running and flies going to work. No wonder nothing lasted, no wonder.
"Time for your lessons, Bart," called John Amos from the barn, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight. I felt captured as I lay on the hay and stared at him towering over me. He smelled old and stale.
"Are you reading Malcolm's journal faithfully?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Are you teaching yourself the ways of the Lord and saying your prayers dutifully?"
"Yes, sir."
"Those who follow in his footsteps will be judged accordingly, as will those who don't. Let me give you an example. Once there was a beautiful young girl who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and she had everything money could buy--but did she appreciate all she had? No, she didn't! When she grew older she began to tempt men with her beauty. She'd flaunt her half-nakedness before their eyes. She was high and mighty, but the Lord saw and He punished her, though it took Him some time. The Lord, through Malcolm, made her crawl and cry and pray for release, and Malcolm bested her in the end. Malcolm always bested everyone in the end--and so must you."
Boy, he sure could tell boring stories. We had naked people in our garden and I wasn't tempted. I sighed, wishing he had more subjects to talk about than God and Malcolm . . . and some darn beautiful girl.
"Beware of beauty in women, Bart. Beware of the woman who shows you her body without clothes. Beware of all those women who lie in wait to do you in, and be like Malcolm, clever!"
Finally he let me go. I was glad to be done with pretending I was like Malcolm. All I had to do to feel really good was to crawl sneakily on the ground, listening to the jungle noises in the dense foliage where wild animals lurked. Dangerous animals ready to gobble me down. I jerked. Bolted upright. No! That couldn't be what I thought it was. Just wasn't fair for God to send a dinosaur. Taller than a skyscraper. Longer than a train. I had to jump up and run off to find Jory and tell him what we had hangin around our back yard.
A noise in the jungle ahead! I stopped short, gasping for breath.
Voices. Talking snakes?