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"But hey, I'll tell you what," I said. Here, the kid's eyebrow cocked, as if he already sensed my intentions. "If you write me a 500-word essay on the Freudian implications of a young boy with gender issues sucking on lollipops while hunting for clams, I'll help you find your pet."
"300."
"500, but you can count the bibliography."
"Done."
The child turned to go, trailing chunks of semi-dried muck behind him. Then he paused, glancing back at me shyly, as if unsure of himself.
"Hey mister?"
I nodded, stifling my impatience.
"Don't forget to lock up tonight. Some clams don't want to be caught." He grinned menacingly and tossed the lollipop over his shoulder.
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