He has his thoughts, he has his brain.

He is perfectly, perfectly sane.

The curtain goes down on one of the better written plays that Mr. Peabody has ever seen. The play ends as Hero takes Heroine in his arms, and they prepare to end their 5 year celibacy that they vowed to keep sacred for one another. Mr. Peabody finds himself wondering what Hero and Heroine, finally reunited, will do after they finish making love. A silly thing, Mr. Peabody thinks. They shall make love once, perhaps twice, and vow to never again be apart. Hero's war still rages on in Africa, and Heroine will soon be great with child. Ironic that romantic fiction never shows the characters of the story in their elder years. What a horrible thing it must be to be young! So foolish!

Better for better, and worse for worse,

Youth is not wasted, it is merely a curse.

Mr. Peabody returns to his perfectly organized, tidy house. It is a small house, but perfect size for someone who lives alone. I shall always have just enough, thinks Mr. Peabody. I have enough money in the bank, and when the urchins and spendthrifts come looking for a handout, I shall briskly shut the door in their faces. People must learn not to be wasteful. I am the ant, they are the grasshopper. The only free thing in this world is the satisfaction that a hard day's work can buy.

You can be happy, and scoffish and snide,

So long as you keep your practical side.

Mr. Peabody changes into his pajamas after finishing his soup dinner. As he is rummaging through his personal effects, he finds a note, grown yellow with age. A curious thing, Mr. Peabody thinks, that I have never seen this! I must arrange my things again, on the morn. Mr. Peabody unfolds the note, and in a woman's faded handwriting, a single word is written. Mr. Peabody refolds the note, and puts it in the breast pocket of his pajamas. His navy blue pajama shirt. Mr. Peabody reaches into his bedside table drawer and produces a small firearm. Mr. Peabody puts the barrel of the gun in his mouth, and blows his brains all over his bedroom wall.

...

...

...

To have only caught a glimpse of that fateful address!

As for Peabody, his room is now, a horrible, horrible mess.

-- Anonymous, November 13, 2002

Answers

You know A.O. That forum changes the way that i look at you drasticly. That was very interesting but very very wield and disturbing. And the last thing i want to say is what was the word Mr Peabody read?!

-- Anonymous, November 13, 2002

Yes AO i also would like to know what he read

-- Anonymous, November 14, 2002

My theory is that the paper said "Trowa"

-- Anonymous, November 15, 2002

lol mine is that the paper sayed the name of a lost love or somthing horrorable that he kept locked away in his mind fore solong that at the mear mention of it he could stand no more and killed himself...

-- Anonymous, November 16, 2002

DS said Trowa...

*Goes and commits suicide*

-- Anonymous, November 16, 2002

Wow i thought you guys liked trowa before. I saw in this forum once that someone like the poor guy. But thanks for the laugh, Trowa was the word, priceless lol! lol!! lol!!! lol!!!!(Laughs so hard falls into coma.....)

-- Anonymous, November 16, 2002

I think the word wasnt even really a word, so much as a writtin 'word' incomprehensible to the well ordered life of Peabody. It could have been something as simple as 'peas' or 'cornbread' or 'Television'. All it had to be was something that was so unstructured it would unbalance the strict regime of his life, and show that nothing was sacred and a higher level without distraction was impossible. Such is the reason why he realized his own failure.

-- Anonymous, November 17, 2002