Sunday, August 26, 2012

Asleep at All Hours

"Jake, come on, man, wake up."

At the base of a Maple tree sat Paul next to his sleeping friend, who was lying with his arms over his face and several bright red scratches glistening on his limbs. Occasionally, Paul would gently nudge Jake and ask him to wake up--Jake, however; did not, so Paul kept watch until morning.


"Well, yeah, it's his dream to become a professional boxer, but. . .every time he's threatened he goes to sleep. I don't want to put down his dreams, you know. . .but he has to know it isn't gonna work out, right?"


Jake's girlfriend was into canning. Apples, mostly. Really, she just liked canning apples. She also believed fully in Jake's dream of becoming a professional boxer.

"Why wouldn't he be able to do it? If a cripple can win a marathon, why can't he win a boxing match? I mean, I guess it would be hard if he couldn't stay awake, but he might get a K.O. on his first punch, right?! Then he'd win!"


Paul and Jake had been for a walk in the woods when a crow attacked. The minute the crow's talons touched Jake's skin, he fell asleep as the crow continued to peck and scratch at him. After ten minutes, the crow most likely thought Jake to be dead and flew off, leaving Paul to take care of the sleeper. The night was cold and Paul considered leaving several times, but he didn't want to leave Jake, nor did he want to drag him home. So he waited, shivering in the dark beneath a Maple tree.

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