Boston Carver was a meek, little man with thin-rimmed glasses. He had no family or friends. The largest and most numerous scars that one had ever seen were on his body. Lost in the bustle of life, Boston was ready to commit suicide.
When he was a little boy, he was beaten on and kicked every day he was at school. He would come home and tell his mother about the cruelty. Sometimes, he would be crying. During college, Boston was top in his class, but the school clowns tore up his diploma after graduation. His mother died when he was 24. His father left them when Boston was two. Boston had no brothers or sisters. He got a job as an office boy for a newspaper, but he quit that job. Another job was offered to him by Swiftco Industries. They wanted him to put check marks on boxes, if they were full of Swiftcoes. The wage for that job was 30 cents an hour. Boston made enough money to live in a box in an alley. He stole food from markets and stashed it in his box. No one paid any attention to him. He tried to starve himself, but he got too hungry. He wanted to slash his wrists, but he couldn't find a knife. He wanted to shoot himself, but he didn't have a gun. Boston had all the luck in the world. He got an idea. Maybe, he was not meant to die. He quit his job at Swiftco and started to walk.
He walked out of town, and he started to talk with the people that he passed by. Boston Carver was a preacher. All the talk was centered around his suffering as a child. He would tell the people about his being kicked and beaten. He would say that he learned about suffering, and that everybody else should learn how, too. People would follow him. They came by the thousands. One day, he was walking along an icy road. A truck was speeding down the highway, and it skidded on the ice. It tried to avoid Boston, but it was too late. Boston was dead. His followers laughed at Boston's corpse. Boston was dead. He had all the luck in the world.
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