The Middle Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

his friend, and the others chimed in, “Come on, come on, come out with us.” They missed the boy and worried they might never see him again.
    But the boy said no and refused.
    Yet still the friends kept prodding and begging, “Come on, come on, you’re not saying no,” and so finally, reluctantly, the boy gave in, and he put on his shirt and shoes and left, locking the door behind him.
    His friends took him to a little tavern with a red-peaked roof, and they sat outside in the cool spring air. The night was dark, and they couldn’t see the hill, but they could see the stars. The boy said wonderful things, and they all said sorrowful things, smart things, and funny things, and they laughed and laughed and got quite drunk, and at three in the morning his friends stumbled home, down the cobblestones and into the town, but the boy returned to his little cabin and opened the door and walked inside and fell asleep.
     
     
    WHEN HE WOKE in the morning he felt sick and drunk, but when he remembered that his monkey would be coming home, he got up and washed and put on a shirt and sat at the table and ate a banana and waited.
    Then he went onto his porch and waited there, so that he could see her as she approached. But soon the day grew dark and the boy grew concerned. “No, it’s impossible,” he thought. “She loves me as much as I love her. The looks in her eyes—she couldn’t have been pretending. No, no.” Those were the kinds of thoughts he was having as he waited, now on his bed, now in the darkness, now inside and under the sheets. “Her mother is probably a nag and wants to keep her there. Maybe she has to sneak out at night. Maybe she has to wait for nightfall. She’ll be back in the morning. I know it.” And he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
    In the morning the boy woke, certain he was disturbed about something. “Now what was it?” he asked, and then with a panic cried, “My monkey!” He leaped from the bed and flung open the door but the porch was bare. “Where is she?” he bawled, and slumped down to the floor and lay with a stomachache, crying, “My beautiful monkey, my beautiful monkey, the only girl I ever loved,”making up little songs for himself, inventing the tunes as he went along.
    At about one in the afternoon the monkey arrived.
    “Hello!” she called out, and the boy pulled himself from the floor and saw his beautiful little monkey standing before him, holding a bright red suitcase.
    “You came back!” he cried, and took her in his arms and threw her into the air and swung her around as the monkey laughed and laughed.
    “Yes, I’m back. I’m sorry I was late,” she said, and put down her suitcase and went and sat on the bed.
    The boy followed and took her hand in his. “Oh, I was so scared. I thought you’d never return. I missed you so much and I love you so much. Please, please, never leave me again. I’d die without you. I’d really really die.”
    And he went on and on like that as she sat with her hand in his, smiling at his face, waiting for him to finish.

THE GIANT
     
    THERE WAS A giant in their town. His name was Sal. Everybody laughed as he walked by and said things like, “Hey giant!” and waved and grinned and elbowed their dates and stuff like that, which the giant tolerated only because he was a giant. It was part of his lot to be way bigger than everybody and teased mercilessly for being so.
    His parents, Jewish, normal-sized, let him stay at home with them. There was no way he was going to find a wife, no way a woman would want to jeopardize her life for him. And so they coddled him and treated him like a little boy and let him keep his room and such.
    One day the giant said to his mother, “I’m thinking of killing myself, I really am.”
    It was a dark day in their household then. The mother told the father and they sat him down in the living room and gave him a big long talking-to.
    The father said, “Maybe you just need to see the world. This