Over a Billy-Bumbler

I cried over a billy-bumbler.  What a weird situation?  I was hungry.  I was cold even though I was wrapped around a comforter and my sleeping bag.  Then, as Oy was dying in Roland’s arms, my eyes and sinuses got really hot and tears came trickling down my cheeks and the sides of my nose.

     What hurt most was remembering how unpleasantly he hand spoken to Oy the day before.  If’ee wanted to go with her, thee should have gone when thee had thy chance!
     Had he stayed because he knew that Roland would need him?  That when push came down to shove (it was Eddie’s phrase, of course), Patrick would fail?
     Why will’ee cast thy sad houken’s eyes on me now?
     Because he had known it was to be his last day, and his dying would be hard?
     “I think you knew both things,” Roland said, and closed his eyes so he could feel the fur beneath his hands better.  “I’m so sorry I spoke to’ee so — would give the fingers on my good left hand if I could take the words back.  So I would, every one, say true.”

I cried over a the death of a courageous fictitious animal… I mean, I remember crying when Hazel passed away at the end of Watership Down, but at least bunnies are real.  Billy-bumblers, on the other hand, are just creations of Stephen King’s imagination.

Odd.  I really am investing too much into this story.

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