Business

He wasn't in it for the money. People told him all the time, "You can make some good money in that business," but that wasn't the point at all. He'd jump rope whether there was money in it or not.

The Boxcar Children

As a kid he read stories about a group of impeccably dressed orphans. They had a system of flawless emotional support, and the problems they found were conveniently solvable yet invigorating. Now, he thought, I speak from experience, rather than read from imagination. I know now what I didn't then: living in a boxcar only looks good on paper.

"Song for the Luddites"

by Lord Byron
(December 1816)

As the Liberty lads o'er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Will die fighting, or live free,
And down with all kings but King Ludd!

When the web that we weave is complete,
And the shuttle exchanged for the sword,
We will fling the winding sheet
O'er the despot at our feet,
And dye it deep in the gore he has pour'd.

Though black as his heart its hue,
Since his veins are corrupted to mud,
Yet this is the dew
Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Ludd!

The Greatest Ride

Today was the day that he was to man the rollercoaster. Plans were set to stutter-step the loopty and crank it on the second helix -- then sit back to watch the people just lose it: soon to be the greatest one-time coaster ride ever. It should have happenned. Those theme park bureaucrats have no imagination.

Regrets

Our hero leans over the starboard side of the ship. His knuckles are raw, his teeth starchy. Only afterward did he regret punching a stubborn knot, and he can't recall in the slightest why he thought it a good idea to gnaw on that frozen rodent. Some days you just have to count yourself lucky that you don't have to explain.