Semi-Daily Scribbles

…and a lot of sawing going on. Now some pounding. I think dartboards with sports logos. Sell them at swap meets. Street fairs. And Beulah's barrel things for when after you smoked your cigarette. There's a wood sign on the barrel, but it's not really wood. It's just some design she paints on particle board and makes it look like the sign is a big hunk of bark off a redwood or something, and the sign says your butt goes here. Beulah is yelling at Conrad now because he cut all the boards crooked…

Gary's play-by-play of the external world raced on. Reg sent Gary upstairs to write in his journal for an hour. Gary hated this punishment worse than a paddle to the rear end. A paddle, naturally, made by Beulah. They were big sellers at church bazaars. Gary had to give five reasons why an expletive-filled rant at the dinner table about seeing Dr. G. in the morning was very bad behavior. He could only think of two reasons. One of them had to do with writing for an hour. The neighbors made a terrible racket below Gary's window. Their fighting words cut and pierced. Gary felt uneasy and couldn't concentrate on his assignment. Busy chatter grew louder in Gary's head.