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11:31 am | 30 October 2003 | little brothers rule

I am going through bins of crap in preparation for The Great Westward Migration, and I have stumbled across the following--a school paper from the recently-turned-17 Nightmonkey that I have carried for four years, reproduced exactly for your reading pleasure (it should be noted that he was, I believe, in 8th grade when this was written, and that it is one of those what-story-is-the-picture-telling exercises). It has a subtle, powerful genius. If i ever dig up the "My Pets" essay (aka "Every Animal We Get Dies by Nightmonkey") then I will be sure to share that, too. clm.

Hour 5

I went to see the sunset at the pier and I heard a big bang as if it were gun fire. Sure enough,it was. There was a man walking out of the water with a rifle in hand and he was dragging a dead swan. I couldn't blame him,swans are nasty animals.

Who knows who that guy was but I made a great description of him. He was beefy, say about 220 lbs. He was about 6'3 with brown long hair and blue and brown eyes. He was Caucasian with a double butt chin. He looked like he was 37 years old. He walks slow and leans back and blinks his eyes a lot. He maybe had a low voice with a crackle or a lisp in it. He's obviously a hunter.

He looked like he had a soft side to him because of the way he was looking at the sunset. He looks like he was a reckless abandoned who takes out his anger on nasty swans. He looked lazy from his big beer belly and kind of heartless because of the way he was dragging that swan by the neck. I wonder what will happen when he finds out that hunting swan is illegal and the authorities might catch him. He looks like a nice man but I would rather watch the sunset than what he is going to do to that swan.

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