“My doggy ate my homework.He chewed it up," I said.But when I offered my excuseMy teacher shook her head. I saw this wasn't going well.I didn't want to fail.Before she had a chance to talk,I added to the tale:"Before he ate, he took my workAnd tossed it in a pot.He simmered it with succotashTill it was piping hot.”

“I Will Not Tease Rebecca GrimesI have to write one hundred times:"I will not tease Rebecca Grimes."Okay, that's one. I'm far from done.(This isn't gonna be much fun.) "I will not tease Rebecca Grimes."That's two. I'm paying for my crimes.It's all because I pulled her hairAnd put spaghetti on her chair.Because I gave her goofy looksAnd squirted mustard on her books,I have to write one hundred times:"I will not tease Rebecca Grimes."That's three. Whoopee. It's going slow.Just ninety-seven more to go."I will not tease" (I'm keeping score.)"Rebecca Grimes." (Now that makes four.)I'm soaked with sweat. My shirt is damp.I think I'm getting writer's cramp."I will not, will not, will not teaseRebecca Grimes!" Can I stop, please?The teacher frowns, and that means no.I still have sixty-six to go."I will-will-will not-not-not-notTease-tease-tease-tease..." It's getting hot."I will not tease Rebecca Grimes."That's ninety-nine. The school bell chimes.Just one more line and I'll be through.Rebecca Grimes, this one's for you!My final line will rhyme with "Grimes":"I will not tease Rebecca...Slimes!"Rebecca Slimes! Ha ha! That's great!I'd better hide it. Oops! Too late!The teacher sees what I wrote down.She takes my paper with a frown.I now must write one thousand times:"I will not tease Rebecca Grimes.”

“I smiled, though looking at William K caused me concern. He looked very ill, and he was my only mirror. We could not see ourselves so I relied on the appearance of the other boys, William K in particular, to know something of my own health. We ate the same food and were built in a similar way, so i watched him to see how thin i had become, how my eyes were growing more sunken. On this day i did not look good.”

“I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled. And then," he added in a lower tone, "I ate my own wickedness.”

“I love my passengers. I remember one woman in particular--a senior who had gotten on my bus. She seemed completely lost. She said she was going to a restaurant on City Island Avenue. I could see she was confused. There was just something about her. She looked so elegant, but with a fur coat on a hot summer day, so I said, 'Are you okay?' and she said, 'I'm fine, but I don't know what restaurant I'm meeting my friends at.' I said, 'Get on. Sit in the front.' I asked a gentleman to get up so she could sit near me, and I said, 'I'll run in and I'll check each restaurant for you.'So I checked the restaurants and no luck, but at the very, very last restaurant on the left, I said, 'It's got to be this one. Let me swing the bus around,' and I swung it around. I said, 'Don't move. Let me make sure this is the place before you get out.'It was a hot day, and she's got fur on. She could pass out. So I said, 'Stay here, sweetie. It's nice and cool in here.' I went in and I said 'There's a lady in the bus and she's not sure of the restaurant,' and I saw a whole bunch of seniors there and they said, 'Oh, that's her!'I ran back to the bus and I said, 'sweetie, your restaurant is right here.' I said, 'Let me kneel the bus.' Kneeling the bus means I bring it closer to the ground so she gets off easier. And I said, 'Don't move.' I remember my right hand grabbed her right hand. I wanted to make her feel special, like it was a limousine. It was a bus, but I wanted to make her feel like it was a limousine. And she said, 'I have been diagnosed with cancer--but today is the best day of my life.'And I've never forgotten that woman (Weeping). She's diagnosed with cancer and just because I helped her off the bus, she said she felt like Cinderella. Can't get better than that. And doing your job and getting paid to do a job where you can do something special like that? It's pretty awesome.”

“People say I talk slowly. I talk in a way sometimes called laconic. The phone rings, I answer, and people ask if they’ve woken me up. I lose my way in the middle of sentences, leaving people hanging for minutes. I have no control over it. I’ll be talking, and will be interested in what I’m saying, but then someone—I’m convinced this what happens—someone—and I wish I knew who, because I would have words for this person—for a short time, borrows my head. Like a battery is borrowed from a calculator to power a remote control, someone, always, is borrowing my head.”

“I prayed. I flattened myself under her bed and prayed. My mother sat up, rigid, trembling. The machines flew overhead then away and back again, the sound retreating and filling my head once more.I lay next to my mother, wondering about the fate of my brothers, my sisters ans stepsisters, my father and friends. I knew that when the helicopters were gone, life would have changed irreversibly in our village. But would it be over? Would the crickets leave? I did not know. My mother did not know. It was the beginning of the end if knowing that life would continue. Do you have a feeling, Michael, that you will wake up tomorrow? That you will eat tomorrow? That the world will not end tomorrow?”