Beagles the outspoken deerslayer and thinker of deep thoughts

Wow what was going on in that Sawyer School? Someone had circulated a petition for redress of grievances, and it wasn’t you? You had an even hotter hothead in your class? What was the tyrannical move that prompted that?

Too bad that she ripped up your paper. I would have loved to read it. You know I did something like that in Gage Park, There was this guy, Mr Chadwick, who taught Spanish, but all he really did was sit at his desk with his feet on the table and talk about golf. I don’t recall my infraction, but I was assigned one of those essays about how I was all wrong and all sorry about it.

This guy Chadwick was so lazy that I assumed he would never read it, and I filled it with a rant about his telling golf stories all class long. But then he surprised me by reading it, and I got in trouble for that. I don’t remember what the outcome was.

Your writing on the top and the bottom of the top of the paper reminds me of a science fiction writer, I think it was Heinlen, who wrote that if they gave you lined paper you should write the other way. Sounded great when I was a budding young revolutionary, but not so much anymore.

I remember the name foolscap, but I don’t remember what kind of paper that was. Remember onion paper? I think it was mostly used in type writers. It was semi translucent and I think it was thought of as classy, though I don’t know why.

I reckon you must be about a week into deer hunting season, and I am wondering if you have been out hunting yet. So I guess while you are there you just sit there and stare and wait for the deer to appear. There are people on the train like that, they just sit there and stare at the back of the head of the person in front of them, and it just drives me nuts. I want to grab them and shake them up and ask them why they didn’t bring a book, a magazine, a newspaper, the box of the cereal that they were reading this morning.

But no sooner have those words left my mouth than I realize that it’s only half the people, probably less than half, who stare at the back of the head, the rest whip out their phones like they haven’t seen it in years, and boop, boop, bippety boop, their way into well I don’t know, that other world.

I suppose a guy could get a lot of thinking done, just sitting there staring out at a slit for hours, but I don’t know, so what do you do? Let’s have a deer hunting story.