Byrom Lighthouse Bush was dwarfed by the huge green hills and he could have his pick of the several mansions whose occupants he believed were responsible for his father's rage that would explode into fire always after Byrom's "fifth infraction".
The six year old threw four large rocks trapping a gatekeeper inside his little claustrophobic enclosure and then added two more to make sure the nigger would stay put and then he proceeded to pelt the large house - creating black burnt-like scars on its white skin ....
During supper with no conversation being meted out, yet Byrom suspected something was churning beneath the cold surface of silence, and only when his father slammed down his linen napkin - missing the table altogether - did Byrom add more meekness to his demeanor.
The father, stated in his ivy cultured tone, that he firmly believed Byrom was deliberately angering the elite gentry of "The Row" as the boy would not look up as he tried to disappear into his mash potatoes; refusing to speak; knowing how upset his stuttering made his father and grandfather.
His older brother Stephen attempted to suppress his giggling - only to have bits of vegetables and potatoes ooze out of his nose.
Byrom felt the specter of all the iron will purblind doomsters coming to rest upon his head.
"Byrom, we received a call from one of the Big Sirs this afternoon. Do you know what it was about?" his father said using his extra stern tone.
Stephan laughed exorbitantly - knowing his brother was flirting with his fifth infraction which he knew for certain would make sparks fly. Stephan was feeling the same excitement that he thought was surging through their father's body which made him feel obscurely jealous.
Byrom tried to hide behind his fork to elude definition and then as an after thought began to delicately cut his meat with a flair of diligence and even swallowed without chewing the green beans he so much detested and then made his head fall almost into his food that made a large wave of his hair begin to copulate with the food on the plate.
"Do you know for an instant with whom you are dealing, young man? These good people own the railroad your dear grandfather worked on for forty years and they have a right to own this country. They were the only ones who paid taxes - until the riff-raff asked to join in the giving as if that meant they could be members of the club. The only thing they are good for is to die when our superiors' interests are threatened. All of us young man exist to do their bidding and you have the audacity to throw stones at their homes! You do understand Byrom, you have reached your fifth infraction! I shall meet you in Pa-pa's den!"
Byrom meekly followed his father from the dining room and was allowed to close the door softly behind him.
"Heat Byrom is an ax for the frozen wrongs we do," the father said as a ticklish sensation began to surge through his loins as he embraced his son's outstretched arm and then turned Byrom's hand over with a certain tenderness to face palm-ward down in just the correct position to accept the warmth of the flame to catch the ejaculating flame that would leave a black line on the skin just before Byrom folded in half as he fell against his father's hip and then to twist over onto his back into a small disgusting heap - with the smell of burning flesh emanating from his convulsing body. END unequally
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