By Robert Vaughan
The teacher released the deformed creature.
“Won’t a wolf get it?” Timmy asked.
Mr. Jamison said, “No way to know.”
We watched it hobble through the grass, toward the copse of trees.
“I think it’s sad,” Juanita said.
Part of life, I heard dad say a millionth time. Just like mom’s lymphoma.
Part of life.
The teacher let the deformed creature go. We were a small handful of chaperones
at the Science Center. No one saw me grab the creature from the bushes. My little Debbie
turned and threw me a look, mom, you coming? The creature didn’t stir, not a peep.
I started to salivate. Would it taste better with cumin or cardomom?