HE SLUMPED DOWN IN HIS LAZY BOY CHAIR AND OPENED A BOOK ABOUT BIRDS. His
retarded looking eyes flickered through the pictures. The birds seemed to fly
off the page at him, as he sucked on a Popsicle, dripping sticky melted
juices on the pages. Flapping his arms in the air, like a flying eagle, he
stood up, galloped around his chair, dropping the book on the floor. His
obese like flabby gut pouncing up and down, round and round.
"I can fly Grandma, look at me, I can fly!"
"Sit down Marty, before you make Grandma upset."
"Alright," he said, collapsing his fat on the floor, sucking on his
thumb, throwing his Popsicle stick on the carpet.
"You gonna see Grandma, one day I'll fly."
"Yes, yes, sure you will young lad."
"Time for your nap Marty."
"But Grandma, I not sleepy yet, me want to go stare at da birds outside,
with my binoculars."
"Ok then, but only for about 15 minutes,"
"Goody!" Marty squealed, running his flubber outside, crunching leaves
with his massive feet, drool drip and all.
Marty climbed up in his tree fort, which was filled with dead
grasshoppers. He had a thing about grasshoppers, he had to kill them all, and
put their crunchy carcasses in his tree fort.
"Just around da corner in da willow trees, gonna stare at da birdies,
flying in da breeze, Just around da corner in da willow trees, gonna stare at
da birdies, flying in da breeze," He sang his song, staring out his tree fort
Binoculars glued to his sweaty skin, he spotted a cardinal perched on a bird
feeder down near the creek. His blood began to flow like a warm wave of
"Ohh, shhhhh, shhh," he said to himself, eyes obsessed with the bird.
"Time for your nap Marty!" his scabby Grandma yelled, peeking her head
out the back door.
"Ess not time yet!" he screamed back.
"Get in here now, boy!"
He jumped down from his tree fort, twisting an ankle. He began screaming
like a little girl, as he limped back in side.
His Grandma gave him a hug and rubbed his sore ankle as she tucked his
35-year-old obese body in to bed. Marty had another dream that he was an