" I reached into my pocket and too the medal and tossed it toward the black opening. It went right in. It disappeared into the darkness.
Then I stepped onto the sidewalk and walked back home. When I got there my parents where doing various cleaning chores. It was a Saturday. Now I had to mow and clip the lawn, water it and the flowers. I changed into my working clothes, went out, and with my father watching me from beneath his dark and evil eyebrows, I opened the garage doors and carefully pulled the mower out backwards, the mower blades not turning then, but waiting. "

― Charles Bukowski , Ham on Rye