George and the Amazing Boomerang - 13

"Your mother's right, you know, George." added Mr. Howard helpfully.

Climbing into the back of the family station wagon, George was not so sure. He was not sure at all that things were going to be all right. All the solutions he had been able to come up with had ranged from "horrific" at best, to "cataclysmic" at worst. Even now, his head buzzed and ached and he felt the Boomerang burning in his pocket, chaffing like a rabid dog on a short leash. He knew it was only waiting for the slightest provocation to turn the full force of its persuasive powers on him.

"You're certainly in no condition to go to school." said Mrs. Howard. "Besides, you'd be late anyway. I'll phone the school and explain. Turn down the shades and go straight to bed; you look like death with double-pneumonia."

George did turn down the shades, and did change into his PJ's and did climb into bed, but he did not sleep.

A dreadful choice lay before him. He knew that if he could convince someone to buy his Boomerang, he would be selling them their death. If he kept the Boomerang, it would only be a matter of time before he would use it again. The first time he had used it, it had given him a headache. The second time, it might be fatal ... both to him and to his victim. The gruesome truth was only too clear to him. He resolved upon the least horrific of his options.

"I've got to go very far away." he thought. "Somewhere far away from everything and everybody. I'll go to Antarctica. I'll build an igloo and ice-fish for my food. Then my Boomerang and I won't ever bother anyone anymore. I'll wait until dark, and then sneak away."

With this sober conclusion, George turned over and glumly waited for night-fall

............................
When the clock had finally ticked its last day-lit tock, George made in his final preparations. Knowing that the authorities would eventually declare him dead, he drafted a will bequeathing all his earthly possessions to his parents (since he didn't have any friends) and packed a suit-case of his warmest clothes.

Panic had long ago deserted him and had been displaced by a calm melancholy. The choice to live a life of shame or choose to be buried alive in a frozen tundra away from all human contact, he reflected, was something that should never be presented to a 4-grader. And yet, who ever said that life played fair? After all, he had brought this upon himself. He remembered the boy that he had been just a few short weeks ago - a scrawny, runty, cowardly whipping boy, seduced by Lady Vengeance. It seemed a long, long time ago. He had changed. In fact, he had grown up. That would have to be comfort enough.

"Good-bye." he whispered softly to his bedroom ... to his home ... to his world. He opened the door quietly.