All right, read it.
This is my composition. I dont think Jesus Who is Our Lord would
have liked the weather in Limerick because its always raining and the
Shannon keeps the whole city damp. My father says the Shannon is a
killer river because it killed my two brothers.When you look at pictures
of Jesus Hes always wandering around ancient Israel in a sheet. It never
rains there and you never hear of anyone coughing or getting con-
sumption or anything like that and no one has a job there because all
they do is stand around and eat manna and shake their fists and go to
crucifixions.
Anytime Jesus got hungry all He had to do was walk up the road to
a fig tree or an orange tree and have His fill. If He wanted a pint He
could wave His hand over a big glass and there was the pint. Or He
could visit Mary Magdalene and her sister, Martha, and theyd give Him
His dinner no questions asked and Hed get his feet washed and dried
with Mary Magdalenes hair while Martha washed the dishes, which I
dont think is fair.Why should she have to wash the dishes while her sis-
ter sits out there chatting away with Our Lord? Its a good thing Jesus
decided to be born Jewish in that warm place because if he was born in
Limerick hed catch the consumption and be dead in a month and there
wouldnt be any Catholic Church and there wouldnt be any Commu-
nion or Confirmation and we wouldnt have to learn the catechism and
write compositions about Him.The End.
Mr. ODea is quiet and gives me a strange look and Im worried
because when hes quiet like that it means someone is going to suffer.
He says, McCourt, who wrote that composition?
I did, sir.
Did your father write that composition?
He didnt, sir.
Come here, McCourt.
I follow him out the door, along the hall to the headmasters room.
Mr. ODea shows him my composition and Mr. OHalloran gives me
the strange look, too. Did you write this composition?
I did, sir.
Im taken out of the fifth class and put into Mr. OHallorans sixth
class with all the boys I know, Paddy Clohessy, Fintan Slattery, The
Question Quigley, and when school is over that day I have to go back
down to the statue of St. Francis of Assisi to thank him even if my legs
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