Free-Range Chickens Read Free

I respect him from afar.
    FIFTEEN
    —Hey, look, that kid is reading
Howl
by Allen Ginsberg.
    —Wow. He must be some kind of rebel genius.
    —I’m impressed by the fact that he isn’t trying to call attention to himself.
    —Yeah, he’s just sitting silently in the corner, flipping the pages and nodding, with total comprehension.
    —It’s amazing: he’s so absorbed in his book that he isn’t even aware that a party is going on around him, with dancing and fun.
    —Why aren’t any girls going over and talking to him?
    —I guess they’re probably a little intimidated by his brilliance.
    —Well, who
wouldn’t
be?
    —I’m sure the girls will talk to him soon.
    —It’s only a matter of time.
    SIXTEEN
    —Hey, look, it’s that kid Simon who wrote that scathing poem for the literary magazine.
    —You mean the one about how people are phonies? Wow—I loved that poem!
    —Me too. Reading it made me realize for the first time that everyone is a phony, including me.
    —The only person at this school who isn’t a phony is Simon.
    —Yeah. He sees right through us.

How my mother imagined the police
    FIRST OFFICER: I just got a call from a local mother. Apparently her child was supposed to be home by six—and he still hasn’t arrived.
    SECOND OFFICER: Jesus Christ. It’s almost
seven.
Are you sure she told him to be home by six?
    FIRST OFFICER: Yes, that’s his weekday curfew: six P.M . If he stays out past that hour, he’s supposed to call and tell her where he is.
    SECOND OFFICER: And you’re telling me he
still hasn’t called
?
    FIRST OFFICER: I know…it’s a pretty scary situation.
    SECOND OFFICER: We better get the chief.
             
    CHIEF: Let me get this straight…the mother still hasn’t received a call from her son?
    FIRST OFFICER: No, Chief.
    CHIEF: Then we can only assume the worst has happened.
    SECOND OFFICER: You mean…a hit-and-run?
    CHIEF: Either that or a kidnapping. They’re both very real possibilities. Get Washington on the horn. This is a job for the FBI.
    FBI AGENT: All right, everybody, listen up. We’ve got a
Code Red.
A fifteen-year-old child has been missing for nearly an
hour
and he has had no contact whatsoever with his mother. Grab your guns and your helicopters and let’s get moving!
    FIRST OFFICER:
(shaking his head)
What’s the point, sir? It’s been so long…he’s almost certainly dead!
             
    FBI AGENT:
(Slaps him.)
We got to keep looking, for the mother’s sake. Even if it’s just to find the body.
    SECOND OFFICER:
(in tears)
Chief, we found him! He was at a friend’s house playing video games!
    CHIEF: Oh, thank God—I thought for sure we’d lost him!
    FBI AGENT:
(lighting a cigarette)
We got lucky this time. Let’s hope to Christ there ain’t a next time.
    CHIEF:
(mopping the sweat off his face)
I’m getting too old for this.
    FBI AGENT: All I can say is: Thank God that boy’s mother called. If we hadn’t located him when we did, he almost certainly would have been killed somehow.

Ninth-grade experiments
    1
    OBSERVATION: None of the girls in my class think that I’m cool.
             
    RESEARCH: My older brother told me that the political hardcore band Rage Against the Machine is cool.
             
    HYPOTHESIS: If I pretend to be really into the political hardcore band Rage Against the Machine, then the girls in my class will think that I’m cool.
             
    MATERIALS:
    1 Rage Against the Machine album
    1 Rage Against the Machine T-shirt
    1 Rage Against the Machine bandanna
             
    METHODS:

    1) Wear the T-shirt and bandanna every single day for an entire month.
    2) Make fun of everybody in the class for listening to bands that are less politically intense than Rage Against the Machine. Especially make fun of the girls who I am trying to impress.
    3) Quote Rage Against the Machine lyrics constantly, regardless of the situation.
    4) If someone asks me what I’m talking about, roll my