He is a collector, finder, gatherer, noticer.
Bright red, hard working, a little bit of spittle always in the corner
of a smiling mouth. He is descended from all kinds of horror. The kinds of things nice people try not to think about. The kinds of things that people do in the name of thier children. These sorts of things cleared away the wild to make way for the well intentioned road to hell.
Its easy to keep going with the whole thing. To get lost, to join an army, to drink until you don’t feel confused anymore. Its easy to make children, its easy to hit them, its easy to hate people who are different and the same as you. He’s too busy mowing.
Theres plenty of work here in the summer.
He mows lawns, cleans houses, clears trash. He finds tokens of all the bad things everyone has been up to.
He trys to find simple ways for killing machines to be useful around the apartment.
He says that a bayonet from the German army in word war two is the single best implement he has ever found to de-ice the freezer.
He is still trying to figure out what to do with the hand grenades.