“Why do you drop change on the ground?” I ask my mom when I walk with her to work one morning during summer. “The birds have to make a living too, Joseph.”

Our route is mapped out. We go straight down Monroe for two blocks, turn right on Furness, take that to Nebraska Avenue for three blocks and come up the back alley to the busy intersection where she clerks at the Eighty-Eight Cent Store. Mom’s done digging in her purse for loose change. “Thirty-three cents,” I say. She tells me something’s wrong with my head that I can’t read the sign on the front of the store properly and she’ll ask my dad when he’s in town to take me to an eye doctor, or to a head doctor for a lobotomy. She tells me to go home and park my butt on the porch with Scott, our dog, and read my Mad magazine. I say Scott and I have big plans to do just that. She’ll be home in time for supper.

I take the same route home, collect the thirty-three cents and stop at Jack’s Grocery on Sherwood and Ivy intent to blow my wad. As I open the front door and the bell rings overhead Jack says, “Here comes Mr. Moneybags,” then puffs on his cigarette. “Hurry up, kid, I got ‘The Price is Right’ to watch.” I put my cash on the glass counter and make my selections. I remember to get a pepperoni stick for Scott and a day old Bismark. As I leave Jack says, “Tell your mother to start feeding you better.” “What, this?” I say, “This is bird food, Mr. Jack. I’m going home to steak and eggs.”

I cram seven pieces of Bazooka Joe in my mouth before I turn onto Monroe. The comics are repeats of each other, which explain why the gum is hard to chew. Tim Wiger, who lives five doors down from me is out front drowning his rabbit. He’s holding it up in the air by its ears and flooding its stomach with the hose. The rabbit’s feet are kicking and it wiggles free. It runs first in circles, then finds the street and escapes to the other side and down the sewer.

“Quit eying me Joefes,” he says, then points the hose at me. It stings as it hits my face and I throw my treats to the birds. I run full toward Tim yelling how he needs to go to a head doctor to learn how to talk properly. He kicks me in the gut and stands over me hosing me in the face until I think my eyeballs are swimming away. I hear what sounds like bells ringing above my head and I dare to open my eyes. Above me I see a collection of rabbit’s feet in a rainbow of colors dangling from chains connected to Tim’s belt loop. I close my eyes and think of the rabbit that got away.