The following is an excerpt of:

Hiraeth: 

The Boy Who Dreamed and the Big Bad Wolf Which He Became

By Tex Batmart

If you haven’t been with us from the start, check out Chapter One here

Chapter Four: Continued…

But, aside from the dog which always seemed to hinder our hero’s entrance to his friend’s abode, everything else about his visits there fell in line exactly with what he had imagined. There were new toys with which to play, and he was allowed his minor bouts of despotism under the graces of hospitality. Of course, it was also during these visits that he began to get some sense of class distinction.

Though he had never before considered his economic situation (and it would be years before he truly started pondering in earnest), he was taken aback by the casual wealth in which his friend seemed to have been born. He still did not consider himself poor, as he had toys, and watched a significant amount of television (though far less than he might otherwise have preferred), but he could not help but notice that his friend seemed to have so many more channels on his television, not to mention that his friend actually had his own television.

Had he not still been at an age where he expected everything he saw to somehow become his, he might have handled his time over there with a fair amount more grace. All was not lost to him, however. The boys seemed to be allowed a far more liberal style of self-management, and henceforth frequently found new and exciting ways of getting into trouble, not that the threat of punishment was much of a deterrent, at least not somewhere our hero was altogether unlikely to be held accountable. And after some time, he was forced to admit to himself a begrudging respect for his new best friend (though, as Ty was his only friend outside of daycare, it was a “best” friendship by default). As much as he would have loved to rule in an approximation of a petty dictatorship, he found that being first among equals was nearly as good.

This friendship would continue on for another couple of years, interrupted by the start of school, and then Ty’s move away to somewhere known as Bothell. By then, of course, Tex would have made another friend, and this one would remain his best friend until they both reached high school (or, more accurately, two-thirds of the way through middle school). But for this brief time in his life, Tex enjoyed his friendship, and when it finally came to an end, as the majority of friendships eventually must, it was with a heavy heart and steely resolution that he finally said goodbye, though it had helped that his sleepover in Bothell had been an unmitigated disaster, which had left both friends eager for its conclusion.

 

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…

While weekdays were spent at daycare, and weekends divvied up between his place and his friend’s, Fridays were reserved for something special. These were the days which he spent with his grandfather. They would get together and go off on adventures, sometimes to the hardware store, and sometimes to the Jiffy Mart. But no matter where they went, it was always the high point of the young boy’s week.

Never having known his father, Tex latched on to the time he spent with his mother’s dad, and relished in the opportunity to explain (at some great length) about everything which had been going on that week. His grandfather would listen patiently, never interrupting (though this author is certain that there must have been times when the old man would have preferred to chew off his own leg than hear another story about Masters of the Universe). Not surprisingly, then (considering how Mr. Batmart came to understand the nature of reality: that the universe seemed only to exist in order for someone or something to be able to thwart him), it wasn’t long until his grandfather’s good nature paid dividends.

They were on a mission to pick up something from the local hardware store, and the boy had been going on for quite some time about the exploits of Prince Adam (who, he was forced to repeatedly explain with growing exasperation was actually He-Man. He had given up entirely on the possibility of conveying to the old man what, exactly, a Battle Cat was), and the general state of affairs in Eternia, when, in the middle of the aisle, he raised up his hands (and, yes, his voice), and proclaimed to the entire crowd of customers in the establishment that, by the power of Greyskull, he had the power.

It was a bit anticlimactic when no one seemed to recognize what he was going on about, and he could not, for the life of him, understand why his grandfather could not seem to keep from laughing. There was nothing amusing about it, at least, not that he could see.

And on yet another occasion, riding back with his grandfather in his pickup truck, New York Seltzer in one hand and pack of bubble gum in the other, he very nearly caused a head-on collision with a tree. They were on their way back to his grandparents’ house from a quick run up to the Jiffy Mart (the finest chain of convenience stores in all of Bainbridge Island), and in the midst of an ongoing oratory regarding the pros and cons of his ownership of the entire collection of He-Man action figures, vehicles, and playsets, he paused to thank his grandfather for having purchased him the gum.

His grandfather had been ready to respond in genuine appreciation for the young boy’s manners when Tex, in a nod to his complete and utter lack of decorum and impeccable comic timing, continued:

                “Yeah,” he said, in a now-conspiratorial tone, “Mom won’t let me have the damn stuff.”

His grandfather’s head snapped to face the boy, and for a moment, his hands followed as well, aiming the truck inadvertently from its course along the road to a row of trees which ran alongside of it. He snapped out of it in time, and managed to shake it off, correct his course, and avoid certain collision, but he was still dumbfounded by the way in which his grandson had so casually (and with contextual accuracy), begun to swear.

It wasn’t, he noted, said for shock value, or to test the limits of parental regulation, but rather used as anyone much older might have used it. He thought back to when he and his wife had taken the boy out to dinner at one of their favorite restaurants, and his grandson had explained (in that clear and piercing, matter of fact tone which only the truly young and innocent possess) that his mother didn’t want him to use the “F-word”, except, of course, he failed to see the need to substitute a euphemism.

His wife was quicker to respond that time, owing, perhaps, to the fact that she hadn’t accidentally aspirated a large sip of cabernet sauvignon, and told the boy that since his mother didn’t want him to use that word, perhaps he shouldn’t use it.

To read the next installment, click here