Because we eat them, their lives have not ended in vain. When you kill something though you better be prepared to eat it. And that goes for everything. Chipmunks, squirrels, birds, even a kid at school. The law of the land says that you've got to roast 'em up and go at 'em with knife and fork. And you'll do it with everyone watching. You've got to eat it all in one sitting, chewing away – bite by bite – until there's nothing left but skin and bones."
"EEhwwww....."
"That's right. And that's why we don't just kill anything or any one. I'll let the ants slide this time. But next time I catch ya, you're gonna get a whole plate of sun fried ants to spoon down. And I and the whole family are going to sit there and make sure you lick up every last one of them."
Young Samuel sat there and though on this for almost too long a time before saying, "Daddy, is it wrong to die?"
Samuel senior sits on the front porch swing and clenches his shoulder blades. His joints crackle with age. He wonders if the boy can hear this or if they are only loud to himself. From this vantage point he can see nothing but a green sea of corn with slight golden tufts of flax swaying on the breeze. It's going to be a beautiful harvest come autumn. The farmers almanac said 1903 would be a bountiful year for both corn and barley. He figured it was a shame he didn't plant more barley.
"No son. 'Taint wrong to die. It's just wrong to kill. Kill anything you don't eat, that is. But it ain't wrong to die. Everything born is destined to die. It happens so often that sometimes you don't even notice it. The important thing is to not bring into the world anymore pain than is necessary, for yourself or anyone else. Pain is the only real evil. Pain ain't never right."
"You're silly," said Sam junior with a smile.
"And you're silly too," returned Sam Senior with a finger prod to his shoulder.
The corn breathed in the breeze before them, destined to be a bountiful harvest to be sure.
T
A blink and Sam was back in the water, angel in his face, hand in his hair, helping him hold on, even though he knew it was time to let go.
"So whaddya say Sam? Surely you have some scores to settle. Help me take revenge on this cruel, heartless world. You don't have to be a zombie. I've released people as hoodlums and plague rats and even house fires and floods. Julius was just a very imaginative person. So whaddya say Sam? Don't get mad, get even."
To this Samuel looked up and said, Blooop. Only it wasn't so much an utterance as it was the release of any dead air he had been desperately holding onto. Burble burble bloop. His sight faded as it focused around the slow waddle of bubbles wandering up towards the surface. The world went dark. And then he felt something. It was his feet sliding free of the rock. They moved up around the cold bones of his ankles. He did a flutter kick as they passed through his knees. Sam snapped his hands forward and flowed upwards. Fingers broke the surface of the water without cutting a wave and lifted himself into the air.
Down below a distant memory beat fists of rage into what remained of Sam's ribs. Above him the sky was sliding into the violet dress of a rising dawn. All over the French Quarter the air was a rich mix of roasting coffee and deep fried beignets. The smells sparkled on senses stripped free from the hard shellac of decades of too much smoke and drink. Sam laughed as he floated over Jackson Square, the Court of the Two Sisters, the House of the Rising Sun. Sidney Bechett was still awake, up on the roof of the Wellington Social Club and bending notes out of his clarinet as if nothing had passed since the party began at six the night before. The sound moved through Sam like silver and was shined on by the flaring of the sun. Fresh over the horizon, the flaming orb rose big and bright and warm and welcoming. In it, center stage, stood Johnny Torrentino with jet black skin and a robe of fine white linen wrapped about him. His cheeks pouched out as he blazed away on a horn of purest gold. The coronet let loose a razzling sound which held in itself the promise to level the walls of a thousand Jerhicos a million times over if it was ever needed to be.
Sam suddenly knew where he needed to be and swam through the sky for it.
The End
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