I’ve got three lizards and two seagulls. People say the lizards taste like chicken, but it’s been so long since anyone’s had chicken, I don’t see how anyone can say. There’s so little meat on them anyway, there’s not much point in saying what they taste like. If you get enough of them, though, they make a pretty good stew. The seagulls definitely do not taste like chicken.
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You keep looking back at the boat, back to the old man. You barely hear Ralph. His voice is tin. The hills blur past like the walls of a tunnel. The sky is dark purple, almost black, with the faintest hint of dawn ahead.
“And how did I freak out the hostess exactly?”
“You were lurking.”
“I wasn’t lurking.”
“You were standing behind a fern.”
“That’s not lurking.”
“Then what the hell is it?”
He sat in the corner of Double Happiness Donut House, as far from the counter as he could get. He eyed the woman behind the register, and took note of doors and windows. Skinny Dave said she stayed open until after the bar on the corner closed, feeding donuts to drunks as long as they were buying.
We were up at the river, the south fork that rolls through the country where my grandparents’ old cabin used to be. I like to take the boy away from roads, out where he won’t have the constant reminder of cars. Cars must be awful for him.
I developed a reputation for being crazy. It was completely untrue, but I did nothing to argue the point. In adolescence, there are advantages to being perceived as crazy. People fuck with you less.
As an obedient servant of the Brotherhood, he could not bring himself to say he actually hated soul tending, but there was nothing in his life he enjoyed less.
I grab my clothes, feel for the weight in my jacket pocket, and hide in the closet. It’s a cliché, I know, but it’s one that works for me. I’m very good at hiding in closets. I do some of my best work hiding in closets.
“This can result in a phenomenon known in the literature as a ‘Berkeley Standoff'”
Unstoriable 