Cool air filled the lungs of the creatures that slept underneath the porch. Dead dogs and mice lay rotting in dry dust. Smells that varied from old bones to abandoned toys lived inside the nostrils of the crickets and rats that would make their homes here. They lived in hostility and listened to footsteps above their heads. Footsteps that varied in rhythm and audibility depending on the one who walked above. Pipes swept through the womb of the mosquitoes. Stagnant water from yesterdays rain. Minds could be lost here. The lack of sunshine was suffocating and only tolerable to those that needed little comfort in life. A small boy sat underneath the porch poking at a dead cat with a stick. The smell of the cat was gruesome but the boy welcomed it. It was a stench that would prove he had been in wonderful places, far beyond the imagination of men. The smell made him a boy, made his mother urge him to warm water as soon as he re entered the house. All along his plan was to seek comfort from his mother. To bathe in warm water and have her caring for him and holding his genitals with the cloth that would make him clean. This was the side of him that he would repress for the rest of his life. The side of him that only made itself known to his subconscious. Underneath the porch, where the boy could hide from himself and play with his dirty boyish penis, the cool air filled the lungs of the creatures that slept underneath wooden floors.