Caudal Pins

The bow-legged man’s parents wanted to call him Jesus but the name was already taken. They decided on Harriman, finding the name unobtrusive and available. The bow-legged man, not wanting to grieve his parents anymore than they grieved themselves, dropped his Christian name when he left home and was old enough not to care anymore. Once his father finished chiding his wife for causing a birth defect in they’re son, he threw out all the sweets and Gin and started fucking the counter-helper at the Cantor’s baker next to the aqueduct behind the A & P. The bows in the bow-legged man’s legs increased in bowing until he could only walk at angles and with the aid of a cane, a rattan one with a silver swans head on the upside. When he was five years-old the doctor solder a pin between his legs, a three inch girthed piece of metal that kept his legs from meeting in the middle. The pin was attached to two plaster casts, one for each leg, that reached down as far as the top of his ankles, had they reached any further he wouldn’t had been able to walk at all, not even a trundle. He volunteered to play in-nets for the bantam hockey team, as he could cover the goal crease without having to move very much or exert much energy. Every Saturday his father drove him to the outdoor rink, dropped him in front of the clubhouse then drove across town to the Cantor’s Bakery, bought a dozen bagels, half poppy seed, half sesame, drove the counter-helper to the parking lot behind the A & P next to the aqueduct and fucked her in the backseat, the still-hot bagels steaming up the windows.