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Wood on Bone

Ah, yes.

The sound of wood on bone-- a very efficacious sound.

Got a nice handle... real nice grip on that baby. Only takes one hand. I took it with me to the railroad tracks. What you find there varies quite a bit. It is not the most savory of places. The strange, destitute and delinquent people go there. They know it's the freest type of transportation you can find. Free in the sense that it doesn't cost any money. Free in the sense that no one there will judge you as long as you let the trains be. Don't throw anything at the trains, don't put anything on the tracks, and don't go into the rail yards where the trains stop. Then you're fine, a virtual non-entity in the eyes of Conrail and the rest of the world.

I went there to study the sound of wood on bone.

There was this guy in ripped old leather and denim clothes. Barely even looked up as I approached. He pulled a bloody handkerchief from his face, revealing the blood and spittle mess of his nostrils. His nose had been burned away by coke or heroin or something. He tried feebly to get up. Very efficacious sound. Nice and solid. Later on there was the deer carcass twisted across the rails. Not much of a challenge. And the sound reflected the beating it had already taken from the cowcatcher and the unforgiving iron wheels. Not at all an efficacious sound. Soft and dull. But the two teenage boys. Totally efficacious, just totally. They saw me coming and picked up on it right away. But it was no use. I caught up to them. First the one then the other. The sound was exquisite. I don't know how much of it was the sound itself and how much was the thrill of the chase. But it was deep, reverberating through me from head to toe. I had to stop and breathe deep for a few minutes to deal with it. No need to look further. I found what I was looking for.