SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

Inching the walker along in small jerks, he abandoned the garbage cans and headed towards
the shade of a low hanging cypress. Then he sat down on a wooden bench. Both of his feet
were wrapped tightly in ACE bandages, and he wore oversized medical shoes. Beside him a
record player sat atop a BBQ grill playing Mexican polka, and there was an antique Daisy BB
rifle leaning up against it.
“Why aren’t you in school, well?” The old man said, gumming his wrinkled lips.
The boy shrugged, hanging his head to hide the welts on his neck.
“I was the groundskeeper over there at Johnson Middle School for forty-five years. That’s how
come I can grow these rose bushes like this without any weed killer or pesticides or nothing. Is
that where you go?”
Larry nodded.
“Are you playing hooky?”
Larry just stood there quietly.
“Well come on over here and sit for a while. Maybe I can put in a word for you. Get you off the
hook.” The old man motioned to the empty space beside him on the bench.
“Yes sir,” the boy said, and made his way to the bench without looking up.
“Ya, that’s right. Make yourself at home there. Take a load off. It’s not bad here under the shade.”
A chain-link fence wrapped around the back yard. A black and white mongrel lay limp and
motionless, its eyes lazily beading here and there.
“You have a nice dog. What’s its name?”
The old man scoffed and hid a smile in his eyes as if such things were too childish to consider.
He said a word in Spanish that Larry had never heard before, but the dog did not stir.
Larry looked around at the strange bric-a-brac.
“You got an old birdbath,” he finally said.
“Ya, I put out fresh water sometimes, but the birds don’t come here. I don’t know why.”
“You just need one of these.” The boy said pulling an army chain from beneath his shirt. On the end
was a large red bead made of dried birch wood, and through the center was a smooth metal pin.
“Watch this little deal right here,” Larry said. “Just watch.” He twisted the rod flush against the wood
of the bead, and it began to trill and twitter mimicking the sounds of sparrows and wrens perfectly.
“Where did you get that,” the old man asked, his eyes fighting back amazement.
“Coronado Boy’s Ranch. This Eagle Scout came once and took us to the botanical gardens
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