Moonchild did the best she could to love the young Sherman, but each successive day caused her more trauma and disdain for the abomination that was her son. Moonchild did not blame herself, even though during the time of Sherman's conception she had been at Woodstock and enjoying copious amounts of illicit substances, and continued to do so even while she was with child. She blamed Sherman for not being strong enough to hold his own against the poor design that God had given to him, and for not fighting harder to change what he was becoming inside of her. At least twice a week from the time Sherman was born, Moonchild would drop him on his head to free herself from the devilish hatred she had for her child. Unfortunately for Moonchild, the plywood floor of her trailer was moist with mold and termites and proved to be more of a springboard than a floor and Sherman would simply bounce lightly a couple times before coming to a rest and crying.
On Sherman's third birthday, he asked his mother for a new red wagon so she could pull him around town and they could spend more time together. He was tired of being left at home alone while she went out to purchase her medicines and visit all 12 of his uncles, whom he had never met. Moonchild agreed, but only to shut Sherman up from his incessant whining. So Moonchild carried Sherman into town in a used milk crate that had a busted bottom, which made the journey ever more difficult because Sherman kept sliding through the bottom and having to clamp his fragile teeth on the edge of the crate to keep from falling to the pavement. Once they got to the Mott's Five and Dime, Moonchild bought, with her superior oral negotiation skills, the cheapest wagon she could find. She placed the ecstatic Sherman into the wagon and pulled him from the store. On the way home, Moonchild decided to push the wagon from behind so that Sherman could see the world in front of him rather than having to look behind him at what he had already passed. Moonchild pushed Sherman right into the freeway and watched from the sidewalk as two speeding cars whizzed right around him, narrowly missing the helpless boy. Her attempt at freedom failed, Moonchild finally resigned herself to a life of serving her invalid child.
Sherman grew normally, or as normally as a limbless hippie offspring could, and graduated from his remedial high school at the top of his class of three. The other two children he graduated with were technically brain dead before the school year concluded and had both been given diplomas posthumously as a show of respect. After graduating, Sherman took a job as a gas station cashier since it afforded him the ability to work for himself but also sit in one place the way he had always done. One day while working hard to count the nickels in his cash till, Sherman was approached by an itchy young African-American man. The young man offered Sherman a small round sack of baking soda, which Sherman took and ate. From that day forward, Sherman's life would never be the same.
He worked hard at his job, but only to support his habit. A habit that spiraled quickly out of control within three weeks. He was constantly under the influence while working, gave too much change to the customers, and became verbally threatening to anyone who came to his store. He was fired not soon after he spit on the deputy mayor's twin brother in a rage over the new business tax that was passed the week prior. When he asked his former boss to give him a ride to his mother's house, the grumpy old man agreed. But instead of helping him home, his boss tipped Sherman over and rolled him out the door toward the street. Sherman rolled deftly under a semi-truck and a taxi cab before he was struck in the stumps by a motorcycle. He cried out in pain and no one would help him.
After that incident, Sherman lost all faith in humanity save for his connection who started bringing him the latest and the greatest in designer products for him to waste his life away with. Shortly after trying heroin for the first time, Sherman's mother died. He rolled himself to the funeral, a small graveside service, but he was so late and disoriented by the time he arrived, the cemetery workers were about to lower his mother into the grave. Sherman frantically rolled faster and faster to say his last goodbyes to Moonchild, but got going too fast and couldn't keep himself from rolling into the grave. The workers didn't notice and lowered the casket down on top of Sherman. He screamed in agony and they quickly realized what they had done. One of the men, apologetically, took Sherman home with him to feed and bathe him. While the two sat around talking, the man asked Sherman if he had been born without ALL of his limbs. Sherman, confused by the question, told him that yes he had no limbs or was he blind?
The man then pounced on Sherman and attempted to disrobe his lower half, pulling mightily at the cloth diaper Sherman was accustomed to wearing. Sherman soon realized what the man meant and didn't bother to fight, even offered to repay the favor if the man had a fix for him.
Sherman, because of this chance encounter, turned to a life of tricks. He has since contracted several stds, most of them many times over, as well as AIDS. Now he sits in his trailer, men revolving in and out the door, leaving only stains on his chin and drugs in veins. Sherman doesn't cry much anymore, he is desensitized to all his life has become. The only thing he asks anyone anymore is for them to rewind his cassette recording of Toni Braxton's "Unbreak My Heart" so he can hear it one more time as he waits and prays for his life to end.
