Me and Rudy were sharing a yellow room. Our beds were on the floor and his was on the north end and mine was on the south end. They were on the floor. One mattress on the floor. All around my bed was an ashtray and ashes spread out in the vicinity of the ashtray. There were crumbs and pencils too. I sort of blew the ashes (I picked up the ashtray) to disperse the ashes and then I patted the carpet with my hand and brushed some of the crumbs aside. I had to do this to slide the door across to divide the room. It would not slide over the stuff. I just then looked up and saw a hanger at the end of the rack with a tag. It said, "Rudy's first grade project." It had a little hat and a space (for where his head would have been) and a shirt overlapped by a sweater and little pants and socks and shoes. Rudy unhooked the hanger and took the hat off. Then you could see his head when he was 6. There was a big gash and hair had just barely grown back from where they had to shave it at the emergency room. It hurt me so much to see what Rudy had been through. The hair on his forehead and sides was regular. Just the oblong tip top of his head had been shaved. [Me and Rudy] were on David Letterman together. I was in a glass booth and Rudy made funny faces and when I came out I sat on the desk. I slid the sliding door across, now that I had cleared away the debris. Me and my father were in the car, looking for a short cut. We had a map, but we were not using it. my father's sax was in the car and we ran across a young fellow with long hair sitting cross-leg on a blanket in Keith and Kevin's yard. I said, "Nat, this is my father; my father--Nat." My father took out his horn and let Nat play it. The Beeks, Keith and Kevin, were getting ready for church so they could not come out and play. The girl who had cut off her hair now had it in green and purple curlers and was happy because she was going to be in the run with her sister.