Twelve years old and already good with a knife. The kid said he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up.
"What kind of doctor?" I asked him.
"Surgeon" he said. "That's a lot of hard training to be a surgeon. Years of training" I said.
"I already started practicing" he replied.
"Oh really" I answered, wondering what kind of practicing a twelve year old whould be doing.
"I've got to go," To me, he said. "Have you seen my dog?"
"Come out!" He commanded into the bushes. The dog crawled out from the brush
and dragged himself toward the boy. The dog was knife scars from missing ears to missing tail, and
both hind legs were missing. There was no more tongue.
Well that explained the praticing, I thought, I should need a good
doctor when I'm much older, and maybe with twenty years of good therapy the kid might just be him.
Good timing.
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