there, he looked out of the window and tried to beat back the inferno
of hate for Kumpee that flared in the nerves throughout his body. He
stared down at what appeared as the moving edge of the road from which
businesses and pedestrians, from the corner of his left eye,
ricocheted. He fingered a slit of the vinyl blue upholstery of his
cushion in a vaginal preoccupation passed onto males through the
inheritance of this cellular knowledge called sexual instinct. Low
levels of guilt oozed from him more subtly than foaming breakers of
beer in a mug and yet he didn't feel that he had done anything wrong.
This moment was no different than other times of malaise in the
past. He wasn't specifically troubled about the fruition of his wanton
fantasies to meet his uncle in the hope of using him for some money.
Money should never rest. It should be spent or invested. If it were
invested it would be used to make more wealth or for philanthropy that
ameliorated thievery. He agreed in a vague way with Kumpee who vaguely
inveighed something to the effect that a bit of money from a more
affluent pocket into a poorer one helped the economy and was a just
act. Likewise, he was not bothered by the release he had gained
earlier in a bit of sex with his youngest sibling. This activity was
to him just an extension of a back rub in a good massage compounded in
a bit of sportive wrestling. It was a due owed to him for undergoing
the stress of looking after the younger brothers and keeping the
principle of family alive. He was acting his part of the big brother no
different than he always had since Kumpee was continually negligent in
performing the role. There were no specifics to this malaise he felt.
The malaise was brought on by the wistful craving to go beyond the
confines of his containment and yet reality, petty and limited, told
him to use what was there under his feet, in his sight, and what he
could touch. A man in the confines of his life used what was under him.
What being did not use the Earth?