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“Surely you are aware there are those of your people who hate all humankind. He’s one of those.
she was the chief justice of a top-secret court that put modern-day Nazis on trial and condemned them to death for not being Nazi enough.
What is literature? Do you understand the question?” “You want to know what literature is.”
Ernest’s body—my dear boy, the fruit of my womb—to use it in some satanic ritual or to give it a Christian burial, either one, I will destroy all of you.”
Ernie was lying face up on the butcher-block top of the table-high island of drawers, under a ceiling ventilation grille. His face still bore the blush of rouge and the light coat of lipstick that Rebecca had applied to make him appear not dead
We will not interrupt him at this critical juncture in his quest to understand his past, but if we did, he might tell us that we should not expect help from those who insist they love humanity and
want to save it, for they are virtue-signaling phonies who are indifferent to or hate everyone except those in their immediate circle, which means salvation in times of trouble is up to you and those who love you, as it always has been and always will be.
Recognizing the voice, Spencer knew that he and his amigos were in a pickle.
“Everyone expected you to be either a skanky disease-riddled junkie living in a gutter or at best a whore.” “Well,” said Rebecca, “I lucked out when, you know, the acting thing worked for me.” “Nobody will mention that here now,” Ada explained, “because they know how emotionally unstable actors are. They don’t want to inadvertently say something about your childhood that might trigger a mental collapse.”
“I’m Warren Weber. You’re Robert Shamrock.”
“There weren’t Nelsoneers back then. The first time I’ve heard about them is today.”
“It’s stifling, suffocating. They’re always asking what errand can they do for
Weber was one of those walk-on characters with the limited purpose of providing important information to the lead character.
Several had the potential to be hits; even if they failed, they were worth composing because they were certain to irritate his mother.
and with his eidetic memory, he could summon those staff degrees at will.
tunes he composed in the last few days were “I Drank My Way out of Her Heart” and “Cheaters Don’t Play Cards in Heaven” and “Drape My Casket in Old Glory.”
The fact that he was holding a severed head by its hair and that the head appeared to be real also contributed to the impact he had on those who’d been drawn here to him.
“What is wrong with you?” Hornfly demanded. He stepped aside, revealing a headless body on the floor. “This will be you if you poke your nose in where noses don’t belong. Are you all insane?”
spite of his game-show voice, he sounded sincere and profoundly impressed when he said, “Holy crap, what a bunch of losers.”
This tourist who came to Maple Grove and got himself beheaded,” said Hornfly, “can’t just be left here to be found.
You really should watch, because if you dweebs don’t back off and mind your own business, we will eat you just the same way.”
The pressing need to decide whether to use a comma or semicolon; whether to employ a dialogue tag, what that tag should be, and whether it should come before or after the speaker’s name; the extent to which the use of adverbs must be limited; whether the best choice for a lead character was a perky brain surgeon or maybe a moody homicide detective or perhaps a perky homicide detective studying to fulfill his or her dream of becoming a moody brain surgeon—several such decisions needed to be made every minute of a workday, without surcease. Any wrong choice could lead to a finished novel that,
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This is important because distraction could cause him to make a mistake and become the only amigo to die horribly. We should prepare for that eventuality.
terpsichorean
“Björn Skollborg,” she said. The name electrified Spencer. “Björn Skollborg! That was him. His severed head. His headless corpse. He was the one.” “He and his wife, Karamia, both disappeared,” Bobby recalled.
“Enough of this,” Bobby said. “We’re just telling one another things that all of us already know, the way characters do in lazy books and movies to get information to the audience. We’ve got to decide what to do next.”
Then the snoop took several steps forward, and Bobby saw something dreadful. Fear gripped him not merely because of the spy’s identity but also because he expected an encounter to ensue. As he watched, the dreadful thing happened again. The flare of a black cape. Britta.
He’s a bad-luck leprechaun who should be fed to the snakes that Saint Patrick drove out of Ireland, but we don’t have snakes or know where to get any. The authorities called him “Baby Shamrock,” in reference to the four-leaf clover. He
Of course if he died horribly in an encounter with Wayne Louis Hornfly (a possibility for which a warning was previously issued), that would resolve the matter.
Gene Pitney song: sooner or later, you found yourself in a town without pity.
“I’m five. There’s only one candle.” “One is sufficient, Ernest. Burning candles produce carbon dioxide. We were not born for the purpose of imperiling the planet by contributing to climate change.”
discovered from whom her son had learned the phrase crazy bitch.
Hilda’s replacement, Bertha Fettleibig, lasted eight months before she was fired when Britta discovered from whom Ernie had learned the phrase shit for brains.
At this juncture, you might be marveling at how neatly all the disparate elements of this book seem to be knitting together toward a satisfying and convincing ending.
Others of you, though perhaps entertained, might find the tale too fantastic to be true, although I have assured you it is as true as
A remarkably pretty girl entered and stood just inside the door as it closed behind her. She wore pink sneakers, fitted jeans, and a tan jacket over a pink sweater and white blouse.
If she made eye contact, the chances that she would approach and say something became intolerably high. If it was going to be one of the worst days of your life, she would actually speak to you. Then what? Then What? Then, inevitably, you would stammer incoherently or say something so stupid that you would die a little while you listened to yourself say it.
They were not the kind of boys who made crude or even suggestive remarks about girls; as certified nerds, they regarded sex and voodoo as equally mysterious territories, where the wrong words could bring a hideous curse down on them.
Ernie pointed at Rebecca with a trembling finger. “You’re moving on!” Heartbreak shivered through his voice. “You’re moving on, aren’t you?” Clearly puzzled, Rebecca said, “Moving on from what?” “From us.” “From you? Why would I?” “Look at us,” Bobby said. Spencer said, “And look at you.”
Gia Adorno arrived at the table. The boys ordered as if they had nothing to live for but food. To Rebecca, Gia said, “I’m happy to see you stopped with the Bride of Frankenstein act.” The boys at once rebelled at Gia’s implied approval of the new Rebecca: “I liked the way you looked before.” “I loved the way you looked before.” “I adored the way you looked before.” To Rebecca, Gia said, “They’re sweet but impossible.”
To Rebecca, Bobby said, “That’s all I’ve got.”
Spencer said, “There seems to be at least a mini epidemic of toe disease. I just met a fellow in your condition.” Butch took mild offense. “I don’t have a disease. What I have is a condition.” “A toe condition,” Spencer said.
“We lost Mr. Blomhoff in isolation.” “Well, it was way beyond the toe with him.”
“That’s him,” said the wife of Travis. “His brother, Pastor Turnbuckle, came to see him at last, but it was too late.” “Pastor Larry was his brother?”
Mother and the man left the kitchen and went to her study so that she could give him a “payoff,” whatever that was. He promised that when he had the payoff, he would “never come back into your life.”
recalled that your mother murdered your father
Until this chapter, the story has been intended to be highly amusing—and is likewise structured for that purpose in what follows—but for this one interlude, deep melancholy could not be avoided. It just is what it is.
As he listened, he knew that the development Bobby and Rebecca had been resisting was inevitable. Their love for each other as friends would never fade, but they were layering another kind of affection on top of it. That progression didn’t disappoint Spencer. He didn’t feel marginalized as a friend, and he wasn’t jealous that Bobby was going to win the heart of such a gorgeous and smart woman. He was happy for Bobby and Rebecca, even if they hadn’t quite realized how far along the path of romance they had traveled. Come what may, they would always be amigos, their bonds too strong ever to be
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carjacking. So get off your high horse, and for God’s sake let’s get on with what happened on that Thanksgiving night.
connections beyond which strange things might be happening. Hornfly had specified the third floor of this wing,
