Pool_1

"No! Damn it! I took this job and I am going to see it through! Hey, Jake, OK, what if, uh, what if you think you're one thing and set out on that journey, but it turns out you're not... you know some deep fatal or sinister flaw?" "Still a voyage of discovery," Jake asserted, with eyes elevated and a slight sideways shaking of the head, "Is it Oedipus Rex, the king, or Oedipus WRECKS everything?" still a journey." A long and deep discussion of the book, the philosophical implications, and the literary comparisons of style and content followed. Jake noticed, aloud, that Marcus knew black folks, and their thinking too well. "You blow academics out of one hole and soul out the other," preceded his exploration. "My dad is called Jazz Man, he hangs in black circles. I'm sure I know as many black stories as white." Marcus barely began to explain. "The furniture dude?" Jake gawked, dumbfounded, looking just as surprised as when he was first introduced to his new charge, and springing to his feet to look dead at the face of the youth sitting on his window sill, inspecting. "Yeah. You know him?" "Everybody knows him! Damn. He.. you.. he.. he's a prince among men. Ha. Here I am talking trash with one of Jazz Man's kids. Hot damn. Which one are you?" "The youngest. I'm the baby." Jake Green, acting like he was being put on, grabbed his reflectee by the shoulders and just stared and stared and stared at his young charge's features, his cheeks, his nose, his eyes. His eyes. Yes. "Except for you eyes.."

"What except for my eyes?" "You look like your mother."