1. The obviously feral little girl has decided that the best way to gain the attention of everyone is to roll around on the floor of the booth where we sell Katie’s art, screaming about being a pirate, and having unintelligible conversations with what I presume are the demons that goad her. I am barely able to contain my seething hate of this child, as her mother periodically gives a half-hearted, “Now, angel, you can’t do that,” when what is clearly needed is a beating and a priest.
2. As I’m coming home from the train after closing the booth, I emerge from the subway to encounter a man, standing on the curb, vomiting a jet of pale yellow that arcs from his mouth out into the street, and I am surprised to find my only response as I walk past is the word, “Bummer.”
(The connection between these two scenes the author leaves as an exercise for the reader.)
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