Peter Cavell
August 18, 2005
stop, i shouted, stop it, stop it right now, don't go near it, stay away, but you didn't listen, no, you ran through the bog to see what it was, not realizing that because of what it was it was best left alone. i ran after you, slowed down a lot by the mud and of course still weak from the fever, but i obviously couldn't catch up to you in time, you the track star, the pride and joy in years gone by of our middle-aged balding pot-bellied phys ed teacher. you were getting closer to it now, and i guess you could see it a bit more clearly because you slowed to a walk and let out a whistle, how do you think it got here, you asked, but i was too out of breath to answer. you walked right up to it and started poking it with a stick, geez, you said, it looks just like the one they showed on the news, do you think it could be the same one, and i just screamed, though i was panting for air, get away, get away from it now, don't touch it getawayrundon'ttouch -

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