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Show 181 tonight. I've been too excessive. Sean needs to learn not to need so much. Let me talk to him. I'll explain it." And so Hunt and Sean had a long distance talk: "Put your hand on your ribs," Hunt instructed his first-born through the telephone. "Feel the leanness. That's your anatomy. Basic anatomy. Be grateful, honey. Be grateful for that. -You'll enjoy the bus." Hunt hung up and fed the marten more calf's liver. "A good sign -- appetite," he said. He felt the animal's eyes, her silence; he felt her somehow storing notes. "Sean's coming home by Greyhound," he told the marten as she coiled herself back sorely into Hunt's navy crewneck. Leah was furious when Hunt told her about his bus decision. "This is nearly December!" she instructed. "Hunt, this is Winter. Did you read the weather reports?" "No." "Snow blanketing the Midwest!" She threw him the paper. "Buses roll over on icy roads. People tumble all over people. Sean will be burried alive inside a smelly bus in a blizzard somewhere west of DesMoines! Do you know what bus terminals are like? Remember me? Remember what I went through?! Remember the man with the hats?!" Nothing was right! Nothing worked! Jesus: Teach the heart's fullness and People can't breathe! People will drown! Teach the heart's spareness, its stringency, and you bury your first-born-son in a snowdrift in Nebraska or Iowa! "Honest to God, Hunt!" |