...they always blamed Stanley’s no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather.

While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,

The melody was sweet and sad, but Stanley’s favorite part was when his father would howl the word “moon.”

Farther away there was a cabin beneath two tall trees.

You want to run away? You’ll be buzzard food in three days.

“Because there’s nothing inside his head.”

Stanley was relieved to be left alone, but he was so thirsty he felt as if he would die if he didn’t get something to drink soon.

Armpit was snoring two cots away.

...and suddenly a pair of sneakers fell on top of him, seemingly out of nowhere, like a gift from God.

Stanley had felt like he was holding destiny’s shoes.

The vibrations ran up the shaft of the shovel and into Stanley’s wrists, making his bones rattle.

Only ten million more to go, he thought, then placed the shovel back in the crack and jumped on it again.

“Myra’s head is as empty as a flowerpot.”

So, she is beautiful. So what? Ptuui!

“This isn’t the Girl Scouts, is it?”

He popped some sunflower seeds into his mouth…

His head seemed to bob up and down on his neck, like it was on a spring.

He felt like he was digging his own grave.

“I’m worse than a pig thief”

“The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies.”

It was four minutes of heaven.

The last thing he wanted to do after killing himself all day on the lake was to get in a fight with a boy named Caveman.

The second hole was the hardest. It would take a miracle.

The sun peeked over the horizon.