Well, I can't say that neither of the catfish danced.  One did.  Undone.  And I am not upset.  I promised Mother and the fish at the market place.  Whether or not I can make it.  I'll try.  But I won't be there without Sam.  Probably.  He'll see if it's OK.  Mom said so.  It's going to be that one time.  That I don't have to worry.  A rainstorm.  Kyle wouldn't talk to me.  So maybe I will see if Sunday works for him.  Friends.  They aren't always the way they used to be.  And what was that one way anyway?  Used to.  When I was a kid?  You had no friends then or now, Carl.  You're the same now as you were then.  Then.  When you were a kid.  You took pride in your ability to play alone.  To be satisfied.  Playing with yourself.  You were not a strange kid.  But those people you called friends.  Thank them.  And thank your mother.  You wouldn't have had even one of them were it not for her forcing you to play with them.  But you preferred to be alone.  So many universes to re-create.  All of them fit from cartoons.  Right?  Yes.  When I blinked, the commercials turned into cartoons.  For a split second.  The length of time it takes to blink.  Quick.  But the cartoons were there.  When I blinked during the commercials.  They were there.  I know they were.   Well, it was a paddle and a ball and an elastic string.  You know the kind.  Where you bounce it about three times and then try again.  Actually, if you're good three times.  Otherwise, one.  If you're lucky.  At three years old.  That was my first memory.  The bouncy, rubber ball hanging from the elastic string.  And the paddle.  Wood.  It was my toy.  I remember saying.  "Remember this."  It was the first time I told myself to remember anything.  I still remember it.  I don't know what else, though.  I held on to the paddle-ball.  Only.  Wait.  There was an outdoor fireplace.  Cinder blocks.  It was across the street at my aunt and uncle's place.  I walked there all of the time.  I was walking home.  Or around the fireplace, which was there.  On my way home.  I said, "Remember this."  It's important.  I kind of remember saying, "This will be your first memory."  I was three.  I specifically tied those two portions of this memory together.  Three years old and the paddle ball toy.  And I said, "Remember this."  Why?  I don't know.  Witchitaw.  Wabash.  Let me feel that.  Well, I'm sorry if you were frightened.  I feel.  And I felt.  A need.  And I acted upon it.  You're never gonna let me live this down.  Are you?  Please try.  Again, I'm not gonna be scared anymore.  Not if I try my best to squeal with delight.  Like I should when confronted with all of those things.  Which one tonight?  The damp one.  Easier.  Inside.  Wavering confidence now.  Un-enforced.  Logic.  Please tell them to come in, because I can't talk.  I'm coughing.  Or I coughed.  And I'm not trying not to cough again.  I waited for the right moment.  That they said to cough, but it never came.  I had to.  I had to cough.  I couldn't help it.  Please try and stay away.  As far as possible.  Away from me tonight.  As possible.  OK?  I'm in no mood.  To party.  In fact, I'm celibate now.  I'm waiting for the right time.  Stay away.  That smell.  I know that smell.  It speaks.  Volumes.  So much ecstasy.  I could rub that smell, where it comes from, all night long.  God.  Please.  Let me feel the warmth of that spot.  It's squeamish.  Until I make it comfortable.  I'll release it.  I'll do.  What you want.  But stop calling me.  That.  With that.  Smell.  It's a wonderful.  Odor.  Said I'm going to change my plans for this afternoon.  Yes.  Come with me.  I want you to believe.  To be there.  Too.  Here.  Right here.  Next to me.  Can I hold you?  Closer.  That's so much better!  Isn't it?  God.  You feel so nice.  Why haven't we felt each other this way before.  So far away.  All of the time.  Only our smells communicating this way.  Before now, I only imagined.  I didn't know.  Now I know you've felt the same way too.  The whole time.  What a wonderful feeling.  These smells.  They're great.  Too.  You don't have to get me wrong.  But this is altogether different.  Isn't it?  I know it is.  You don't have to say anything.  I can tell.  From your smell.  And now from your torch.  Hot.  That's so good.  Please.  Don't stop.  No!  Wait!  That's not what I wanted.  Wait.  Now stop.  Now.  OK.  This isn't what I thought you wanted.  No!  Please.  Stop.  Go away.  You are uncalled.  Take your lures away.  Further false.  In what they offer, they are false.  Fake jewelry.  Costume jewelry.  The latest fashion.  Whatever it sells, it sells.  And not by high fashion standards.  Exactly my point.  Wilting.  Daffodils are not as easily identified as dandelions.  I am aware of the color, the texture, the size, the location, the blooming-season, the reputation, the sight, the feeling, and the wrath of dandelions.  Yellow.