Scat

by jkatejohnston

2 February 2014

Dear Max,

Enzo scraped his shin on a BeyBlade. “I need a Band-Aid. Scat.” He ran to the bathroom and started doctoring himself. “I’m big enough to do it myself.”

“What does scat mean?”

“Do it right away.”

*

“Remember that time I ran away at Lake Tahoe?”

“Um, no.”

“By the creek. And my cousins were there.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

(We all walked down to the creek to fish but had to turn back because of a thunderstorm. Enzo refused and ran away, and it scared the shit out of me.)

“Only a true fisherman would stick it out in those conditions. You guys were the only not true fishermans.”

*

Walking along in San Francisco trying to find Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, stopping to consult tourist map. Enzo, “Where even is this so-called place?”

*

My mystery story is still going. I’m afraid that if I stop I’ll lose the thread of it. The working title is Hand Job. I decided to make my perp a weenie wagger instead of a murderer. Plus the one character is into handwork, as they call it at Enzo’s school: knitting, quilting and similar. Reading that over, I see how unpromising it all is.

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