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January 22nd, 2003

Burning

We found it in the field, grown over, grass and weeds trapping it down on the ground. It was small, round, grey, with glass black eyes, and it was still alive. Matty said that it looked a bit like Christ, up on his cross, but then Matty had always been an overly dramatic fellow with biblical leanings.

We stole a can of petrol from a backyard, climbing over the rotten, leaning fence, and sneaking up through the long grass to the back door. It was a quick grab, then back the way we came, and out into the field, with its rusting goal posts and playground set that'd been removed of anything resembling a seat.

No matter what TV told us about little grey men and what we should do, it never told us that they burn nicely. Petrol helps. Our little fellow screamed into the smoke, carrying it high into the heavens.

Least that's what Matty said.