Entertainment, Music, Literature, & Culture
3 A.M. Magazine



Nicholas Morgan

Copyright © 1999 - 2000
All Rights Reserved


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 window. 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 jubilation.

"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

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