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Episode number 560½ The old woman stopped at the curb, feeling its sloping inclination with the tip of her cane. "DON'T WALK!" flashed the light - then "WALK!" in a friendly green. The puce Volvo making a right turn on a red did not look friendly, nor did the blaring taxi, or any of the other obnoxious vehicles. If only little Kevin would come... For weeks he'd been helping her across Reynolds Avenue at that most ghastly of all intersections, but how long would he last, facing adversity again and again in the name of helping-grannies-type Americana? Would he help, or had insanity finally claimed him as her own? ... He whipped out a paperback book and screamed, "I am Charles the Cat!" Obviously he had been driven to the brink. Long days working at the glue factory feeding live horses into the pulverizer had scarred his psyche. Yes, he had tried seeking psychiatric help, but the shrink had accomplished nothing except making Kevin a heroin addict. Since the doctor was also a perverted, sexually depraved, sadomasochistic, bisexual child molester, he had taken advantage of Kevin. Now, wracked with syphilis, Kevin moved toward Granny Mulohan. Could he hear to help another human in trouble, besieged as he was by his own little tragedies? The orphanage had threathened to evict him if he was late again, and he was always late when he helped the old dear. As it ws, he'd eaten nothing but dog food for a week, that being the customary punishment for tardiness. "Kevin?" Her dim blue eyes tries to focus on him. "Kevin?" Mrs. Mulohan waited in confusion. It was too much.
Kevin took out a loofah and sloughed himself to death.
(Anonymous, "Dead
End Dada", Young Adults, New York: Tom Dorerty, 1985)
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