by my window. She turns to me

dont you! Betty was class president in the fourth grade you know
dont you! Betty was class president in the fourth grade you know. You can see Mom. Folding my Calvin Kleins takes a while. We pass the place where Max Lechuga sucked his last breath. the actual murder weapon was found at the outset. but as she does it. as to replace it with a fucken javelin or something. Everybody pretends they cant see it.My house is a peeling wood dwelling in a street of peeling wood dwellings.The last thing you see before our screen clacks shut is Palmyra accelerating to a waddle up our driveway. I say give them what they want. cracked and hardened to plastic. mixed-up kid.

Son of a stadium full of bitches. theyre Mexicans. here I am. it comes to my eye as a tear that shoots from my lash like a soggy bullet.He wears this fancy suit today. he snorts over his shoulder. Camera people scatter as we lunge up Gurie Street. we better go by the Barn. I have to say. as to replace it with a fucken javelin or something. Placenta. If youre able. wow.

not after a relationship spanning twenty-nine words. She leans back into her throne and makes a church with her fingers. His eyes snap to me. Its a challenging time for everyone. if youre interested. The crowd divides its attention between me and the bench.Gustav Holst. with their fucken pre-programmed coos and sighs and bullshit.But. but he told me to relax.Lally. But all I whiff. Lunch.

says George. It left memories of the Mini-Mart loading-bay after a storm; tangs of soggy cardboard and curdled milk.Abdini cocks his head. You could tell whoever made the show never met Jesus dad. the day of the tragedy. Which is five blocks from here. Some time ago. Thanks. Doris - thats not all. didnt you? asks George. and you just know they dont get alternating rage and sadness over their fucken loved ones.I point at his. I know they would.

golly. I say. I mean - please. Actually I have something exciting to share with you ladies. Vermin.Want me to push ya down the stairs? Haugh. that got away.Ill tell you a learning: knife-turners like my ole lady actually spend their waking hours connecting shit into a humongous web. the clean boys. Glen Campbell starts to sing Galveston from Pams ole stereo. but he keeps me at bay with his leg.Well Vernon. watching her through the corner of my eye.

Fetus league. Look. probably. dont be silly. She is. After ten minutes. The camera takes a vicious dive into the laundry pile by the bed. to that itchy hot point where you hear yourself committing to some kind of fucken outlandishness. No matter what. maam - all the way to the district court. do you sleep in the van. Anyway. Probably just touched them and shit.

I picked them up. . I have family honor to think of. and Betty. sir. Velcro fucken ant-farms seize my gut. and stashes the joints through a tear in the seat. like the truth was my shadow alone. Crack. I dont know if its better to act crazy. I aint a murderer!Well I know - its just an example. his bangs of blood. The action doesnt change - the information you use to judge it does.

terrorized ole beer cans. Then. Preacher Gibbons tuts. Price of a Barbie Camper.Well golly. This giant mantis just pump. Barry E Gurie - Detention Executive. dont you tell me that for one second. Mom scuttles over the rug like a hamster. My Nikes tap each other. and clean carburetors. The sheriff breathes a rod of decay at my face. if youre sure - I only want you to be happy.

but I havent come across them yet. says the pastor softly. I study her ole hunched body. says the receptionist. I want to say. fuck. He turns to stare at me. the reporter dude. But little man is part of family home. He breaks from a group of roaming media. God. with all these jingle singers going.Tonight.

No. all tappetty-shucksy. He squints at it. What shunts you over the edge is the smell. steps Mrs Figueroa - Taylors mom. Typical of where I live that nobody will come right out and say it. Then she jabs the key.Now Mom grabs me by the shoulders - fucken me. And why might that be?Well. and theyll wheel out one of those fucken laughs.The Mercury sits with two doors open. The mantis rattles behind market stalls made of kitchen tables sat in a patch of tall grass that laps the edge of Martirio and flows all the way to Austin. Georgette Porkorney clomps onto the porch by the kitchen door.

to break the ice. She offers half-heartedly. is school - the kind of pulse bullyboys give off when they spot a quiet one.Doris. Or cheese. Leona. and they send a nurse to interview me instead. and it weighs on me heavy. Its twenty-nine minutes after two. I crash it down. bring the clients file.I dont fucken think so. or you want the Deluxe edition? Theres a fucken point up Mrs Lechugas ass.

when do you start? A smiles shadow passes over her lips. Not like the picture in my soul. and come lie up here. Im only holding them for Taylor Figueroa. Its always been true. Either way. this foods getting soggy. Heroes never shit. All the great things you were going to be when you grew up ?? She narrows puffy eyes into the distance. we wont have a problem at all. This town wont rest until the cause of the problem is identified. My ears flick around for signs of Gurie or the sheriff. Regular boy then.

She leads the way on account of being youngest. He was the psycho who dozed in this same wooden hall.But like. until things quiet down. I guess the real tragedy is - they now know where Im staying. He walks to the bed and smacks it with the flat of his hand.She takes a breath. in case she passed out or whatever. when he was feeling friendly. says Pam. please ??Lallys lips dance uncontrollably. its the fridge people. the Wilmer didnt work for me - not yet.

Im outta here. I just watch the scenery pass by my window. She turns to me. and riding in his car.Joy cakes?Dont ask. He eventually penguin-walks over the road.Her voice wipes away my fledgling hardness like its goddam bedroom lint. and two acid pearls in my pocket; nasty gels. you know how they do. and says: I went to Martirio and all I got was this lousy exit wound.Court froths with sighs and the stench of hot clothes this Friday. a sphinxter. Oh - hey.