I’m worried about Ditto, said Bonny. Why? said Pablo. Because, said Bonny, he’s spending too much time with that tree.
Go fish, said Ditto.
Category: Boston and Cambridge and Concord
“Ditto finds a dead tree” (I)
Why is that tree different? said Bonny. Because it’s dying. Why is it dying? Because it’s old. Its roots can’t nourish it, and its leaves don’t absorb the sun. Save it? No, we can’t save it. It’s going to die, and then it will fall, and rot, and become food for the forest. You and me? Yes, one day.
“Weohryant University” (XXVIII)
Hey, said Frank, who’s hogging the Kama Sutra?
“Blurtso considers his inner parakeet” (III)
Hunger is the bow, whipped cream the arrow,
and pumpkin pie the target
one sights unflinchingly.
“Blurtso looks at the snow” (XIV)
More snow. This winter is really something. I think my coat is turning white. Pretty soon I’ll begin to look like a polar bear… or a polar donkey. And on a day like today, I’d be invisible. I wonder what it would be like to be invisible, and not have anyone notice me? I suppose I could always stomp one someone’s shoe… to make sure I’m alive.
“Ditto goes to school” (XIV)
I don’t think the teacher likes you, said Virginia, maybe you should bring her an apple.
“Ditto goes to school” (XIII)
Your assignment, said the teacher, is to draw a house.
Excellent, Virginia!
No, no, no big-nose! I said a house! Just a house!
“Blurtso looks at the snow” (XIII)
Harlan should be home soon. His last class ended thirty minutes ago. He’ll probably stop at the COOP for a cappuccino, then make his way up the street and across the bridge, and I won’t even hear him coming, until his trunk fumbles for the keys to the door.
“Ditto goes to school” (XII)
It’s a blustery, snow-swept day at Fenway… here’s the pitch, Jeter hits a scorcher to second… Dustin “Ditto” Pedroia glides into position… scoops… wheels… throws to first…
“Ditto goes to school” (XI)
Our stickball team played for the championship last year, said Ditto. Really? said Virginia. Yes, said Ditto, I was the starting rightfielder. Did Dustin Pedroia ever play rightfield? said Virginia. He must have when he was young, said Ditto, everyone begins in rightfield. Really? said Virginia. I thought the rightfielder was the worst player on the team. No, no, no, said Ditto, I led the league in on-base percent. Really? said Virginia. What was your batting average? I didn’t get any hits, said Ditto, but I had 86 walks and one out. Like Eddie Gaedel, said Virginia. Eddie Gaedel? said Ditto. Yes, said Virginia, the shortest man to ever play in the majors. He was three feet seven inches tall, came to bat once in 1951, and walked on four pitches. His lifetime on-base percentage is 1.000. Really? said Ditto. Three feet seven is the shortest ever? I think so, said Virginia. Hmm, said Ditto, I wonder if Dustin Pedroia lies about his height?