One of my favourite books from recent years has been Cormac McCarthy’s “the Road” & I was overjoyed when the novel was awarded the Pulitzer in 2006. I’m not going to spoil it for anyone & repeat the story only to say that it is set in a post-apocalyptic United States & tells the story of a man & his young son’s daily struggle for survival. Apparently it is being made into a film, so for those who don’t like to read keep an eye out for it. One of my favourite parts in the book takes place early in the story when they come across a supermarket:
On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trash strewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot & walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the ally behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola.
What is it, Papa?
It’s a treat. For you.
What is it?
Here. Sit down.
He slipped the boy’s knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminium clip on the top of the can and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from the can and then he handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said.
The boy took the can. It’s bubbly, he said.
Go ahead.
He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. It’s really good he said.
Yes. It is.
You have some, Papa.
I want you to drink it.
You have some.
He took the can & sipped it and handed it back. You drink it, he said. Let’s just sit here.
It’s because I won’t ever get to drink another one, isn’t it?
Ever’s a long time.
Okay, the boy said
On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trash strewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot & walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the ally behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola.
What is it, Papa?
It’s a treat. For you.
What is it?
Here. Sit down.
He slipped the boy’s knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminium clip on the top of the can and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from the can and then he handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said.
The boy took the can. It’s bubbly, he said.
Go ahead.
He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. It’s really good he said.
Yes. It is.
You have some, Papa.
I want you to drink it.
You have some.
He took the can & sipped it and handed it back. You drink it, he said. Let’s just sit here.
It’s because I won’t ever get to drink another one, isn’t it?
Ever’s a long time.
Okay, the boy said
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