orley Munson had been a hapless child and a sickly one at that. He was not the type to make friends easily or attract animals to himself at the park. Even as a boy people had been wary (or downright cautious) of his presence
and so he had buried himself in books
and fantasy as a kind of solace.
Morley Munson had been sent to boarding school as a young man — his mother,
a former actress and now an unhappy housewife — had little time for the unexpected birth of a son, let alone the raising of the boy. His father, Mr. HubertMunson, was a respected salesman (who owned his own company) and was often
on the road and far from the family abode.
Morley Munson did not thrive on the hard-knock experience of living away from home from the age of seven. He suffered all the anguish and humiliation that one might expect from a young (bespectacled) boy surrounded by other unhappy youths, but he was probably dealt an even greater share of misery than the average child. That was just the way life was for Morley Munson when he was growing up.Morley Munson learned from these experiences, however. Oh yes, he learned and on the inside he began to grow. Like a long, twisted African vine his anger at the world was beginning to form and curl about his tiny heart, squeezing off the last bits of joy and love that had been there in the first place (which, to be fair, was never much).
Morley Munson killed his first living thing while away at school–a tiny grey mouse (that he found in a corner of his room) which he slowly, inevitably crushed beneath the heels of his sensible brown leather shoes. This made him smile.
Chapters 1 & 2.Chapter 4 — The Parents
