The circus went through town every spring right around my birthday.
There was this guy. Him and my mom used to drink and fornicate and beat the crap out of me.
They’d make a whole night out of it. And I remember one time; it was my ninth birthday… him and my mom had just finished round one of boozing, boning, beating up Jerome, and were deciding to take a little break.
Anyway… Mm.
I was outside the trailer, and you were there and you said, “Why are you crying, Jerome?”

“It’s my birthday and my mom and the snake guy are beating me.”

Then you said, “This world doesn’t care about you or anyone else, Jerome. Better to realize that now.”