Jack London

When God Laughs Jack London

"If you don't git up, Johnny, I won't give you a bite to eat!"The threat had no effect on the boy. He clung stubbornly to sleep, fighting for its oblivion as thedreamer fights for his dream. The boy's hands loosely clenched themselves, and he made feeble, spasmodic blows at the air. These blows were intended for his mother, but she betrayed practisedfamiliarity in avoiding them as she shook him roughly by the shoulder."Lemme 'lone!"It was a cry that began, muffled, in the deeps of sleep, that swiftly rushed upward, like a wail, intopassionate belligerence, and that died away and sank down into an inarticulate whine. It was a bestialcry, as of a soul in torment, filled with infinite protest and pain. But she did not mind. She was a sad-eyed, tired-faced woman, and she had grown used to thistask, which she repeated every day of her life. She got a grip on the bedclothes and tried to stripthem down; but the boy, ceasing his punching, clung to them desperately. In a huddle, at the foot ofthe bed, he still remained covered. Then she tried dragging the bedding to the floor. The boyopposed her. She braced herself. Hers was the superior weight, and the boy and bedding gave, theformer instinctively following the latter in order to shelter against the chill of the room that bit intohis body. As he toppled on the edge of the bed it seemed that he must fall head-first to the floor. Butconsciousness fluttered up in him. He righted himself and for a moment perilously balanced. Thenhe struck the floor on his feet. On the instant his mother seized him by the shoulders and shookhim. Again his fists struck out, this time with more force and directness. At the same time his eyesopened. She released him. He was awake