When I Was Five I Killed Myself

Name: When I Was Five I Killed Myself
Price: 4.68 USD
Availability: InStock
ISBN: 9780743423007

ISBN-10: 0743423003

ISBN-13: 9780743423007

Edition: 2001 (Reprint)

Authors: Howard Buten

List price: $14.95

30 day, 100% satisfaction guarantee!

Marketplace

3 new & used from $4.68

what's this?

Rush Rewards U
Members Receive:

You have reached 400 XP and carrot coins. That is the daily max!

Burton Rembrandt has the sort of perspective on life that is almost impossible for adults to understand: the perspective of an 8-year-old. And to Burt, his parents and teachers seem to be speaking a language he cannot understand. This is Burt's story as written in pencil on the walls of Quiet Room in the Children's Trust Residence Center, where he lands after expressing his ardent feelings for a classmate. It begins: When I was five I killed myself.... In this rediscovered modern classic from "one of France's best-loved temporary writers"(Time),Howard Buten renders with astounding insight and wry language the tale of a troubled -- or perhaps just perfectly normal -- young boy testing…

Book details

List price: $14.95
Copyright year: 2001
Publisher: Washington Square Press
Publication date: 7/1/2001
Binding: Paperback
Pages: 192
Size: 5.00" wide x 8.50" long x 0.50" tall
Weight: 0.440
Language: English




When I was five I killed myself.


I was waiting for Popeye who comes after the News. He has large wrists for a person and he is strong to the finish. But the News wouldn't end.


My dad was watching it. I had my hands over my ears because I am afraid of the News. I don't enjoy it as television. It has Russians on who will bury us. It has the President of the United States who is bald. It has highlights from this year's fabulous Autorama where I have been once, it was quite enjoyable as an activity.


A man came on the News. He had something in his hand, a doll, and he held it up. (You could see it wasn't real because of the sewing.) I took my hands off.


"This was a little girl's favorite toy," the man said. "And tonight, because of a senseless accident, she is dead."


I ran up to my room.


I jumped on my bed.


I stuffed my face into my pillow and pushed it harder and harder until I couldn't hear anything anymore. I held my breath.


Then my dad came in and took my pillow away and put his hand on me and said my name. I was crying. He bent over and put his hands under me and lifted me up. He did this to the back of my hair and I put my head on him. He is very strong.


He whispered, "It's ok, Son, don't cry."


"I'm not," I said. "I'm a big boy."


But I was crying. Then Dad told me that every day somebody gets dead and nobody knows why. It's just the rules. Then he went downstairs.


I sat on my bed for a long time. I sat and sat. Something was wrong inside me, I felt it inside my stomach and I didn't know what to do. So I layed down on the floor. I stuck out my pointer finger and pointed it at my head. And I pushed down my thumb. And killed myself.


Copyright ï¿½ 1981, 2000 by Howard Buten