Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Ruth Z. Deming

After a dinner of thawed pepperoni pizza, fingerlickin baby carrots and a carton of strawberry milk, he began his pleas.

Mom! Dad! Please. Please, lemme ride my scooter round the bend and I never, I promise I will never ask you again.


Benji claps his Cincinnati Reds Cap on his head, grabs the scooter from the vestibule with the umbrellas and baseball bat for killing raccoons and steadying himself watches the cars and a cat or two fly by like on the Atco Speedway,

Don’t look now but it’s out of business.

I will not fall and scuff my knees a bloody red and leave scars for the rest of my life, goddamit, the rest of my life, good goddamit.

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