A Dirty Job

by Christopher Moore

Charlie leaned into the screen. ‘Dude, her name is Eduardo.’ ‘I know. It’s a Filipino thing, like Edwina.’ ‘She has a five-o’clock shadow.’ ‘You’re just being a racist. Some races have more facial hair than others. I don’t care about that, I just want someone who is honest and caring and attractive.’ ‘She has an Adam’s apple.’

Charlie had, in all the confusion and screaming, mentioned that he had to get hold of her breasts because she was going to die today. In retrospect, he felt he probably should have kept that information to himself.

‘This is a great car. My mailman would love this car.’ ‘Your mailman?’ ‘He collects vintage pimp wear.’ ‘So what are you trying to say?’ ‘Nothing.’

‘I’m not even sure that we need to rise and let Darkness rule,’ said Nemain. ‘Apparently darkness isn’t qualified yet. Speaking as an agent of Darkness, I think it needs more time.’