You? I thought. You jokers? You nutty fuckers are all God sent to stop me? That is a riot. That is so fucking funny. What are you going to stop me with? Your girth? Your good intentions? Your Target jeans? Your years of living off the fat of the land? Your belief that anything and everything can be fixed with talk, talk, endless yapping, hopeful talk? The contours of the coming disaster expanded to include the deaths of all present. My face got hot and I thought, Go, go, go. Ma tried and failed to rise from the porch swing. Ryan helped her up by the elbow all courtly. Then suddenly something
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