“Who’s teasing the baby?” his mother yelled out the screen door.
Jess sighed and poked the last of his sandwich into Joyce Ann’s open mouth.
Her eyes went wide, and she clamped her jaws down on the unexpected gift. Now maybe he could have some peace.
He closed the screen door gently as he entered and slipped past his mother, who was rocking herself in the kitchen chair watching TV.
In the room he shared with the little ones, he dug under his mattress and pulled out his pad and pencils.
Then, stomach down on the bed, he began to draw. Jess drew the way some people drink whiskey.
The peace would start at the top of his muddled brain and seep down through his tired and tensed-up body.
Lord, he loved to draw. Animals, mostly. Not regular animals like Miss Bessie or the chickens,
but crazy animals with problems—for some reason he liked to put his beasts into impossible fixes.
This one was a hippopotamus just leaving the edge of the cliff, turning over and over—
you could tell by the curving lines—in the air toward the sea below where surprised fish were leaping goggle-eyed out of the water.
There was a balloon over the hippopotamus—where his head should have been but his bottom actually was—
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