It really was a VERY complicated shelf. I think I’m missing some of the pieces at this point–like the strange wicker man made entirely out of little straw squares, he was different. But he was stoic. This little guy, no, he lacks any sort of restraint at all. He’s READY TO PUT OUT FIRES.
My god. If they only gave out merit badges for sheer, unadulturated enthusiasm, his would be three feet wide and hot pink and have a picture of a Jack Russell terrier on it. Drinking coffee. He’d lower his hose toward the fire, screaming in presumably Japanese, let loose with two full hydrants, and maybe, if the fire was big enough, he’d hit something. Possibly a fire, possibly just the sky in all its beauty, and it would rain shining droplets, each one holding a single spark as it reflects, contains, the inferno, until the flaming microcosm shatters on the ground, bathing the earth in water and reflected flame.
I don’t know what that is on his hat. I think it’s a phoenix about to launch a combo attack.
Old Man Sullivan…he remembers youth, as if it was a two-seater car in the summer that he was desperate to get out of when he was trapped in it, then when you finally struggle out of the seatbelt and break free, you realize, “wait, it’s the summer, let me back in, there was such beautiful air conditioning.” But, no, your keys are in there, and now, only memories.
Savers on North Loop and Burnet