It Was Not Consumed

Reads: 203  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

A passionate, detailed description of a young boy's allergic reaction to his reese's puffs.
Just kidding.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - It Was Not Consumed

Submitted: July 07, 2012

Reads: 205

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 07, 2012



The sun's coming up in Peshtigo. The birds caught my ear a half hour ago, but it wasn't untill I'd walked into the alley out back that I noticed they sound the same as they did back in home. The dove; I first placed its call while volunteering at the wild bird sanctuary in Denver and heard that moan (Awooh Whoo, ooh ooh) face to beak. But that's not entirely true, as I'd heard them called Teradactoes in the summer of '09 when I was experimenting with communistic bacchanalianism. I never did like that name.

The alleys in this town were used for the coal trucks just after they were concieved. They'd drop the coal down chutes into the basement and shovel it in for the winter months, which must be long since it's almost my birthday and it's freezing. It's freezing, or I'm shivering. Sometimes in the morning, I'm not sure why, I just kind of shiver. I just don't know how to stop it.

The whole town burnt to the ground in 1871. The same day as the Chicago Fire, actually, but it was much worse. I guess it must've been a dry year.

My grandfather will be up soon, he rides his bike across the river to water my uncle's lawn. My grandfather spent a lot of money on that lawn.

See, my uncle is socially inept. Not yesterday he poured rum into my ice cream and showed me the titanium firing pin in his assault rifle. It took us a few minutes to figure out how to put it back together. I like the guy, though. He has all these books on organic synthesis, and some of them probably weigh as much as me. Also, whenever he talks about a really prestegious chemist, he calls him a really serious guy. I like that because I think he's right. My uncle says that physical chemistry is macho, that the top 100 physical chemists are men. I suppose he might be a little worse off than I can tell.

The Menomonee river is dammed up like all the rest, but they're replacing an old bridge and they've got it choked down to half size. You can see the remnants of so many drunk nights littering the newly exposed riverbed, but it looks worse than it really is 'cause the mussels are shiny too, on the inside. I'm still worried though, worried that they're Zebra Mussels. I read on a pamphlet from Cherry Creek State Park that Zebra Mussels are an invaisive species. You had to have your boat inspected before you set in, so the mussels couldn't get into the resevoir. The thing is, a river is so big, I don't see how anyone could protect it from Zebra Mussels. It's kind of funny that men should have to play policemen with naturally evolved species, but I suppose they might just be protecting their dams. All I know is that I'm allergic to mussels. Or at least I think I am.

I suppose the town was asking for it, being a logging town, with all that sawdust and coal... There's something very hopeful, though, about being somewhere where practically everything has years ago been incinerated. Everything except the riverbed. It feels like something that would be good for anybody, like a way to remember we've been through hell, and it's just beginning to rain.

© Copyright 2017 Gee McCloud. All rights reserved.