Mr. Gulley buys a muzzle and thirty pairs of boots. He cuts the boots to pieces. He sews them together into a larger boot. He can barely lift it. He builds an automated boot-throwing machine, or \u201cbootapult.\u201d<\/p>\n
Edmund calls.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d Edmund says. His voice is congested. He\u2019s been crying.<\/p>\n
\u201cI bought a muzzle,\u201d Mr. Gulley tells him.<\/p>\n
\u201c. . . oh,\u201d says Edmund.<\/p>\n
\u201cLike for Hannibal Lecter,\u201d says Mr. Gulley. \u201cFor when you\u2019re home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cI\u2019d eat the muzzle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLeverage!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d says Edmund. \u201cYou don\u2019t get it. I\u2019ve eaten death rays. I can eat the muzzle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLeverage,\u201d Mr. Gulley protests feebly. Then he looks at the muzzle. He thinks about it. He thinks about what he would do if he were muzzled and he wanted to eat the muzzle. He\u2019d put his hand over the air hole, he thinks. He\u2019d eat the air. He\u2019d swallow, and there would be vacuum; the muzzle would crumple in.<\/p>\n
At least I have never had cavities,<\/i> thinks Mr. Gulley, to balance out a peculiar momentary ingratitude for the strength of Gulley mouths and Gulley teeth.<\/p>\n
\u201c. . . I see,\u201d he admits.<\/p>\n
\u201cShould I stay here?\u201d Edmund asks. \u201cOver the break?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d says Mr. Gulley.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can stay,\u201d Edmund says. \u201cI\u2019m a monster, Dad. I . . .\u201d<\/p>\n
He can\u2019t make himself say it. He can\u2019t tell his father about Ben. He just repeats it: \u201cI’m a monster.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI almost visited Fenris today,\u201d says Mr. Gulley.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI forgot he\u2019s going to eat me,\u201d Mr. Gulley says. \u201cI was just, you know, lonely. And I wanted to talk to somebody about my marvelous Fenris-killing bootapult. And I was actually \u2014 I mean, the door was open,<\/i> son.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe world\u2019s ending, son. You know it. I know it. We\u2019ve maybe got decades, but more likely it\u2019s months. It\u2019s coming. And it\u2019s almost summer, son. Come home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad,\u201d says Edmund.<\/p>\n
Then, far away, he hangs his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cSure thing, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
After a while Mr. Gulley hangs up. He goes down to the basement. He starts to open Fenris\u2019 door.<\/p>\n
He freezes.<\/p>\n
He leans his head against the wall. Then he shakes it. Then he goes back upstairs. He gets the automated boot-throwing machine. He gets the boot. He puts them in position.<\/p>\n
Gingerly, using a remote control device, he opens Fenris\u2019 door.<\/p>\n
He looks down at his wolf.<\/p>\n
The wolf looks at him.<\/p>\n
Fenris is leaner than a greyhound, wiser than an owl, massive, terrible, and sleek. The wolf has been licking at one leg where it is hurt by the chain.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not supposed to do that,\u201d Mr. Gulley says, helplessly.<\/p>\n
He almost runs forward to do something about it. He isn\u2019t sure what. To hit Fenris\u2019 ear and cry, \u201cBad wolf!\u201d To apply medicine to the wound. To touch his wolf and weep.<\/p>\n
He stops himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatever,\u201d says Fenris.<\/p>\n
The wolf looks up at the boot-throwing machine.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have a boot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do,\u201d says Mr. Gulley.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is nowhere near big enough,\u201d says Fenris.<\/p>\n
\u201cPardon?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re planning to stomp me with that?\u201d says Fenris. \u201cIt is not big enough. You could try with a boot one hundred times bigger and that might be enough for me. Or,\u201d and here the wolf is nonchalant: \u201cnot.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Gulley triggers the automated boot-throwing machine.<\/p>\n
It flings the boot at Fenris. It stomps the wolf. It stomps the wolf hard in the face.<\/p>\n
The wolf shakes it off.<\/p>\n
After a bit, the wolf begins to lick the fallen boot.<\/p>\n
\u201cI figured,\u201d says Mr. Gulley.<\/p>\n
The wolf twitches an ear. It doesn\u2019t bother to say anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t expecting that to work,\u201d Mr. Gulley clarifies.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just was hoping \u2014 I thought, if Heaven wanted<\/i> to give me a miracle, that I should at least sew together thirty pairs of boots to earn my shot.\u201d<\/p>\n
The wolf dangles its tongue. Then it shakes its head a little and licks the boot some more.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe it\u2019s poisonous,\u201d says Fenris.<\/p>\n
Gingerly the wolf pulls the boot onto its tongue and gulps it down. It waits to see if it will become sick or die.<\/p>\n
After a while it says, \u201cI don\u2019t think it\u2019s going to work.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Gulley sits down on the stairs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going to eat you, gumby,\u201d Fenris says.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are,\u201d says Mr. Gulley.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not,\u201d Fenris argues.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are.\u201d<\/p>\n
He leaves the door open. He wanders upstairs.<\/p>\n
The wolf\u2019s stomach rumbles and grumbles, down below.<\/p>\n
It occurs to Fenris after a while that it probably oughtn\u2019t have eaten a gigantic boot.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Mr. Gulley buys a muzzle and thirty pairs of boots. He cuts the boots to pieces. He sews them together into a larger boot. He can barely lift it. He builds an automated boot-throwing machine, or \u201cbootapult.\u201d Edmund calls. \u201cHey,\u201d Edmund says. His voice is congested. He\u2019s been crying. \u201cI bought a muzzle,\u201d Mr. Gulley […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1859,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[26],"tags":[],"series":[47],"class_list":["post-5302","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-the-storm-that-saw-itself-chapter-4","series-the-storm-that-saw-itself"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/11\/Wolf_2b_Chained.png","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5302","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5302"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5302\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6134,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5302\/revisions\/6134"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1859"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5302"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5302"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5302"},{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/books.hitherby.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fseries&post=5302"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}