I've found my home

or you could just trim it

But let's say there's a bear.

Will, just trim it.

No, listen to me. There could be a bear.

A bear?

Yes, a bear. A bear loose in the streets of Tijuana.

Just trim it.

But what if there is a bear loose in the streets of Tijuana?

Why would there be a bear in Tijuana?

I dunno. But there could be.

What has a bear got to do with it anyway?

If there was a bear, loose, in the middle of the street, you'd be sorry.

Just trim the damn thing.

No. Say a bear had escaped from Jellystone Park.

Jellystone? You mean Yellowstone.

Do they have bears in Yellowstone Park?

Do they have bears in Jellystone Park?

DUH! Where do you thing Yogi and Boo Boo live?

Stop there. Stop there and trim it.

No, I'm being serious. Say Ranger Smith has banned pic-a-nic baskets from Jellystone Park. And say that this bear had heard the best tacos were in Tijuana. Well, he'd come here, wouldn't he? And, let's say that we were in the street when he arrived. Well, you'd run - wouldn't you?

Is this about the way I run now?

No. Yes. No. Sort of. Look, you always say that when you run it looks like you are being chased by a bear. Well, you don't!

Thanks.

You look like you've actually been caught and partially mauled by a bear.

You're now telling me that I run funny?

You're missing the point.

There's a point?

Yes. There's this bear in the middle of the street. A hungry bear. What would you do? You'd run. But he'd see you running and think: "There goes my lunch!" And I'd have to defend you.

You'd defend me? From a bear.

Of course! There is no way I'd let a bear get you!! I love you!!! And, and you smell wonderful. The bear would probably want to eat you because you smell so nice.

You are so sweet.

That's my point! The bear would want to get you and I'd have to defend you. So what I'd do is, I'd pull of my left shoe, pull of my left sock, and stab him with this toenail.

That toenail?

This one. On my middle toe.

It doesn't look very sharp. Not sharp enough to stab a bear anyway.

I could sharpen it!

Or you could just trim it?

Or I could just trim it I suppose.

Thank you.

Ha! You won't be saying thank you when you get chased by a bear down La Revolucion!

I'll take my chances with the bear. But for now, just trim the damn toenail will you.

the first time timmy saw yellow

Timmy left the house clutching the penny in his hand. He loved the size of the coin, it was so much bigger than a farthing or a ha'penny. It was much bigger than a thrupence or a sixpence. It felt solid, felt good, in his hand and he was allowed to spend it all. He knew that this was because he had managed not to stare at his uncle's face or, at least, not stare at the place where half of his uncle's face should have been. He hated the Saturdays when his mum's brother came to visit. Saturdays should be spent playing in the bomb sites, playing cricket or football, getting into mischief - as his grandpa would accuse him of doing every Saturday night. But when his uncle came round he would have to sit in the front parlour, making sure that he was seen but not heard. This was almost impossible. The hessian material of the chair seat made his legs itch, he had to wear his formal Sunday shorts. The neck of his shirt tried to strangle him, he had to wear his Sunday shirt. The conversation would mumble into his ears, all he could hear was a soporific murmur. The only way he could stay awake and stop fidgeting was to stare at his uncle's face, imagining what it must be like to kill Germans.

His mum always made a fuss over her brother, he'd been away to fight in the war and come back a hero. Not like his dad who had spent the war down the pit, digging for victory. His parents would argue, his grandpa would make snide comments. His dad was proud of what he'd done, his effort in the war, but it wasn't enough for mum and grandpa. All dad had to show for his sacrifice were a few cuts and grazes, he hadn't lost half his face. When mum's brother came round, dad would head out - to the allotment and then on to the pub. Timmy would go to the pub, after his uncle had left, and shout in through the door that dad could come home. Dad wouldn't come home for another couple of hours after the all-clear had sounded. And when he did, it would mean that the arguments would start all over again. He hated the Saturdays when his mum's brother came to visit.

After tea and sandwiches and hours and hours of boring conversation, his uncle would always call Timmy over. Tell him that he had seen something behind Timmy's ear - Timmy could see everything behind his uncle's ear because there was no ear to block the view. Then the uncle would pull a shiny penny out from behind Timmy's ear and give it to him. This was the moment he was dismissed. He would look at his mum, begging her to let him go to the shops. She would review his behaviour throughout the afternoon and then decide what could be done with the coin. If Timmy had been particularly restless, or staring, then the whole coin had to go in his piggy bank. Or, through degrees that Timmy didn't understand, his mum would allow the spending of a farthing or a ha'penny or three farthings. Today he'd been especially good. Today he could spend the whole penny. Now, now he just had to find someone so that he could gloat. He hoped that the rest of the kids on the street would be around as he headed over to the corner shop. A whole penny to spend. He might even share some of the booty he was about to purchase.

[to be continued...maybe]