Zoo 3
By Bill Kieffer
The West Corner of the Park 2
There were older boys, but only Juan Mondello was the most senior of the Hewitt brood. He knew how to play the game and get the most out the decrepit bear, which usually meant playing the other foster kids against each other.
You can only play ten sided discus toss for so long and it paid to be able to entertain yourself. For the moment, watching the stupid 'Saur-baby "run" futilely after the flying disc was making Juan's day, but he could see that Jarvis was weakening and if something wasn't done, he was going to cave and let the little monster catch the disc.
Juan's old man had been killed by those cock-sucking, cold-blooded abominations of nature. They had no place in Juan's life, and if they were going to force themselves on Juan, then it damn well was going to be on his terms, not theirs. This little hatchling was going to grow up knowing his place in the great scheme of things, if Juan had anything to say about it.
And, by the rules of the game, he did. He just couldn't be overt about it. He'd seem too many other fosterlings try that route and it never flew with Papa Ursine. Juan was a Darwinist of the purest stripe, but it was not just a matter of natural selection. It was a matter of selecting the moments to pick one's battle, naturally.
Juan just had to remember not to let the green devil get to him.
He called Jarvis over and then threw the disc out to Bob. As Bob threw the disc across the green, Jarvis and Juan each told a different foster brother Juan's idea. Evil smiles broke out as mob rule sunk in and within minutes everyone knew what to do the moment Juan called out, "Hey, Andy! This one's for you!"
The disc was bright red, even Andy's weak vision could track it across the field. His heart caught in his throat as he realized that Juan had thrown the disc right at him! He couldn't believe it! Everyone was watching him as he got himself in line with the flying object, and he knew... he just knew... he was going to catch that piece of plastic. Otherwise he was gonna die; just die. No, he had to catch it!
He was under it and then he and it were over the crest of a hill as a sudden wind shift took the disc along a different vector. Andy forced his stubby little green legs to stay under it despite the change in direction, despite the pain in his chest or his own plate chafing his upper arms.
And, miraculously, his efforts paid off for the disc suddenly dropped into his furless arms as if it had meant to land there all along.
"Yes!" Andy screeched and held the disc aloft. "I caught it! I caught it!" He spun gracefully in an arc as he headed back to his "brothers." He was lighter and swifter and the air was sweet. "I caught it!"
Only when he crested the hillock, the west corner field was empty but for him. He was confused for a moment, but then suddenly the little plastic disc might as well have been made of lead. His lungs, already bellowing for air, suddenly demanded twice as much air. He nearly choked as he tried to swallow something caught in his throat at that moment and the two needs collided. His little green body shivered as other pressing needs made themselves known, but within moments they sorted themselves out into huge racking tears.
Andy fell to the ground, the sudden extreme weight of the disc was just too much for him. He tried to pull himself into his shell, to make himself small, to let the numbing darkness take him, but that kind of thing only happened in comics and cartoons. In the real world, a Tortoise's shell was nothing more than plates of hardened, dead skin and not a little house he carried around on his back. But why couldn't this be like the cartoons? Why?
"I caught it," he complained, understanding what happened while not understanding it at all. "C'mon... I caught it..."
By Bill Kieffer
The West Corner of the Park 2
There were older boys, but only Juan Mondello was the most senior of the Hewitt brood. He knew how to play the game and get the most out the decrepit bear, which usually meant playing the other foster kids against each other.
You can only play ten sided discus toss for so long and it paid to be able to entertain yourself. For the moment, watching the stupid 'Saur-baby "run" futilely after the flying disc was making Juan's day, but he could see that Jarvis was weakening and if something wasn't done, he was going to cave and let the little monster catch the disc.
Juan's old man had been killed by those cock-sucking, cold-blooded abominations of nature. They had no place in Juan's life, and if they were going to force themselves on Juan, then it damn well was going to be on his terms, not theirs. This little hatchling was going to grow up knowing his place in the great scheme of things, if Juan had anything to say about it.
And, by the rules of the game, he did. He just couldn't be overt about it. He'd seem too many other fosterlings try that route and it never flew with Papa Ursine. Juan was a Darwinist of the purest stripe, but it was not just a matter of natural selection. It was a matter of selecting the moments to pick one's battle, naturally.
Juan just had to remember not to let the green devil get to him.
He called Jarvis over and then threw the disc out to Bob. As Bob threw the disc across the green, Jarvis and Juan each told a different foster brother Juan's idea. Evil smiles broke out as mob rule sunk in and within minutes everyone knew what to do the moment Juan called out, "Hey, Andy! This one's for you!"
The disc was bright red, even Andy's weak vision could track it across the field. His heart caught in his throat as he realized that Juan had thrown the disc right at him! He couldn't believe it! Everyone was watching him as he got himself in line with the flying object, and he knew... he just knew... he was going to catch that piece of plastic. Otherwise he was gonna die; just die. No, he had to catch it!
He was under it and then he and it were over the crest of a hill as a sudden wind shift took the disc along a different vector. Andy forced his stubby little green legs to stay under it despite the change in direction, despite the pain in his chest or his own plate chafing his upper arms.
And, miraculously, his efforts paid off for the disc suddenly dropped into his furless arms as if it had meant to land there all along.
"Yes!" Andy screeched and held the disc aloft. "I caught it! I caught it!" He spun gracefully in an arc as he headed back to his "brothers." He was lighter and swifter and the air was sweet. "I caught it!"
Only when he crested the hillock, the west corner field was empty but for him. He was confused for a moment, but then suddenly the little plastic disc might as well have been made of lead. His lungs, already bellowing for air, suddenly demanded twice as much air. He nearly choked as he tried to swallow something caught in his throat at that moment and the two needs collided. His little green body shivered as other pressing needs made themselves known, but within moments they sorted themselves out into huge racking tears.
Andy fell to the ground, the sudden extreme weight of the disc was just too much for him. He tried to pull himself into his shell, to make himself small, to let the numbing darkness take him, but that kind of thing only happened in comics and cartoons. In the real world, a Tortoise's shell was nothing more than plates of hardened, dead skin and not a little house he carried around on his back. But why couldn't this be like the cartoons? Why?
"I caught it," he complained, understanding what happened while not understanding it at all. "C'mon... I caught it..."