Well I've got a brother, D.B.'s his name, he used to write books. One book he wrote, 'The Secret Goldfish' which is about a boy who bought a goldish and wouldn't let anyone look at it. That book killed me. Anyway hes gone Hollywood now being a prostitute. If theres one thing i hate it's goddam movies, dont even mention them to me.
What else is there, erm, ah I used to go to Pency Prep, they've kicked me out now. You might have seen the ads for it, they advertise it in about a thausand magazines. They always have some hot shot guy in it on a horse jumping over a fence. And underneath they always said 'Since 1888 we have been moldingboys into splendid and clear-thinking young young men.' They dont do anymore goddam moulding at Pency then any other school. I remember being stood next to that crazy cannon on top of thomsen hill on my own watching the football game againt Saxon on that Saturday after i got back from New York when i left all the fencing equipment on the train.
There were never many girls at the football games, but there was Old Selma Thurmer, the old headmasters daughter what a girl, i liked her. However she wasnt exactally the type that drove you with desire. She showed up at the games quiet often. The thing i liked about her was she didnt give you a lot of horse manure about what a great guy her father was. She proberly knew how much of a phony solb he was.
I went visiting Mr Spencer my old History teacher down Anthony Wayne Avenue to see how his grippe is. Oh and i have T.B but im healthy When i finished running down the hill to his house i have to stop and get my breath back, im quite a heavy smoker. After i got across rout 204 i felt like i was disappearing. I was frozen when i got to the door. Mrs Spencer opened the door, they didnt have a maid or anything.
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