From: Covenant@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: part three of pity
Date: Sat Jul  2 03:51:02 1994
My Mom cried and brushed some mud from his forehead and said her
goodbyes.  I stood there, strong, like a man should be, though I was about
to lose a friend.
It took two tries.  I heard my Mom cry out once she knew that the
first shot hadn't done the job.  Dave had the second shot ready in an instant,
thank god.   It was over.  The friend I'd grown up with was gone.
I watched.  I like to think now that it was a last gesture.   I said
goodbye to a friend.  But I was an adolescent, and I know now that is was 
morbid curiosity that made me watch.  We'd butchered chickens and sent 
steers to the slaughter, but this was different.  Much different.