Every time we made a round of cuts, though, I’d look at this story and say, “Well, good night. Close your eyes…I shall have to kill you in the morning.” I did that all the way until the final edit and, well, here it is. Ryan had a martial arts class in the town where I spent my elementary-school years, and one afternoon when Anne and I took him there it sparked a flood of surprisingly lucid memory flashes: Racing down the sidewalk, lying headfirst on my skateboard. Yes, I cracked my chin, and yes, I have the scar. Getting a drink from the hose. Why does that chemical, vinyl, rubbery water taste so good? And is it really that cold? To this day, I love a drink from the hose when I’m working in the yard, even though it’s just as easy to walk into the kitchen and fill up a cup. The barefoot dash across the parking lot, stopping at least once on the white painted lines before making it into the cool Thrifty drugstore, where ten-cent scoops of double chocolate malted crunch awaited.
What do You think about The Happiest Days Of Our Lives?
