(February 9/08)
Had I the choice, which of course I don’t, I’d change my name to Leon Babcock the 3rd. Eighteen days before the advent of my hatching, slip-sliding down the parturition-sluice like an otter, gummy-gums awaiting the first tugging. As Leon Babcock the 3rd I’d surely have a better chance at flight-footing and mad-cattery.
When I was a wee-one, a wee-waif of a wee-one, we had a dog named Edirne (a city in Thrace, the westernmost part of Turkey, close to the borders with Greece and Bulgaria. It is the capital of Edirne Province (Turkish Thrace) and its estimated population in 2002 was 128,400, up from 119,298 in 2000) that ran in non-concentric circles like a madwoman. When my father decided we as a family couldn’t take care of her any longer, he swapped her for a rusty shotgun and a carton of Craven A’s. I pilfered a package or two, stowing them underneath my shirt along with a dog-eared copy of Popular Mechanics I’d pilfered the day before from the Nickel-O-Dime on the corner beside the Waymart across from the aqueduct that never held any water.
If I were Leon Babcock the 3rd I’d steal and pilfer whatever I wanted, never once fearing a swat on the bottom or a cuff to the ear. I’d be a fearless wee-waif of a wee-one, a Dickensonian bad-boy, a Fagan freeloader, a bombastic Leon Babcock, Leon Babcock the turd. I’d stop using italics for a day or two, buy my own brand-spanking new copy of Popular Mechanics, and swap the family dog back for half a carton of Craven A’s and a punch in the nose, the smarmy farmer’s nose.
Had I the choice, which of course I don’t, I’d change my name to Leon Babcock the 3rd. Eighteen days before the advent of my hatching, slip-sliding down the parturition-sluice like an otter, gummy-gums awaiting the first tugging. As Leon Babcock the 3rd I’d surely have a better chance at flight-footing and mad-cattery.
When I was a wee-one, a wee-waif of a wee-one, we had a dog named Edirne (a city in Thrace, the westernmost part of Turkey, close to the borders with Greece and Bulgaria. It is the capital of Edirne Province (Turkish Thrace) and its estimated population in 2002 was 128,400, up from 119,298 in 2000) that ran in non-concentric circles like a madwoman. When my father decided we as a family couldn’t take care of her any longer, he swapped her for a rusty shotgun and a carton of Craven A’s. I pilfered a package or two, stowing them underneath my shirt along with a dog-eared copy of Popular Mechanics I’d pilfered the day before from the Nickel-O-Dime on the corner beside the Waymart across from the aqueduct that never held any water.
If I were Leon Babcock the 3rd I’d steal and pilfer whatever I wanted, never once fearing a swat on the bottom or a cuff to the ear. I’d be a fearless wee-waif of a wee-one, a Dickensonian bad-boy, a Fagan freeloader, a bombastic Leon Babcock, Leon Babcock the turd. I’d stop using italics for a day or two, buy my own brand-spanking new copy of Popular Mechanics, and swap the family dog back for half a carton of Craven A’s and a punch in the nose, the smarmy farmer’s nose.
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