Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick (Zoey Ashe #2)

by David Wong

The piano-black Zoey-ghost-face spider-drone monster

Someone told her the technique was called “gaslighting.” Zoey assumed they called it that because it really confuses people, just like if you stopped in the middle of a conversation to suddenly light a fart.

[A] flaw in the human character is that everybody wants to build and nobody wants to do maintenance. KURT VONNEGUT

When you get sick of what’s in front of you, yeah, fixing it is never as appealing as just walking away and starting fresh. It’s the reason the landfills are choked with stuff that could easily be repaired and it’s the reason action movies are always about killing psychopaths instead of helping them get better mental health meds.

It looked like a fir tree that had gotten charred in a forest fire and was covered in little mechanical skeletons that climbed around the branches. Holographic ghosts swirled and moaned all around it, programmed to occasionally shriek and lash out with ghostly hands when sensors detected someone walking too close. The kids would love it at the Halloween party. Yeah, that’s who it was for. The kids.

“I wish this house had a machine that would make my bra go flying off the moment I walked in the door.” “If such a device existed, Ms. Ashe, I’m certain your father would have had one installed long before you moved in.

Without breaking stride, Will said, “Look for your wallet. You’ll find it’s not in your pocket.” Alonzo’s face froze. He reached for his back pocket. “It’s right here.” “But just for a moment, you had doubts. That is the trick.”

She said, “Want to play a game of horse?” “Nah, don’t think your back could support my weight.”

black jeans and a black denim jacket (she figured it’d make it harder to hit her in the dark) and a dark gray T-shirt that in big yellow letters said HOW ABOUT I SLAP YOUR SHIT?

Carlton was plating karaage chicken, a Japanese junk food staple—little hunks of dark meat marinated in soy sauce, rice wine, and sake, then coated in potato starch and fried, served with a creamy mayo lemon sauce.

Diane... remind me to hunt this down and try it sometime.

Echo said, “Funny you should say that, because on the way home I waved to you on the sidewalk, but it turned out it wasn’t you, it was a dumpster full of butts. There was a hospital there. And that’s where they throw away their old butts.”

Zoey tried to sit up, but struggled as the bag shifted under her. Everyone seemed to wait patiently for the sounds of Zoey’s thrashing to stop. Finally she just gave up and said, “I’m listening.”

“Right, everything is terrible. I’m getting discouraged, Budd, tell me a joke.” Without hesitation, Budd said, “A pirate walks into a bar. He’s got a steering wheel sticking out of his fly. Bartender says, ‘That looks uncomfortable’ and the pirate says, ‘Yarrgh, it’s driving me nuts!’”

She actually looked for a label about dosage and instead only found a single warning in all-caps: DO NOT USE ON GENITALS.

Professor Cheeselog.

“I would not do that to a man,” Chobb said. “To get all pumped up to breach a door, only to have someone just pull it open instead? I am not capable of such cruelty.”

“Can I help you with something? You’re Deedee, right? I don’t think I ever got your last name.” “My last name is Dunn.” “Is Deedee like the letter D twice, like initials? Do they stand for something?” “Dun-Dun.” “Is there something I can … wait, your name is Dun-Dun Dunn?”

Maybe go to a pharmacy during their busiest time of day, walk up to the counter and throw a bottle of erectile dysfunction pills at the cashier, and say, “We no longer need those. We have these.” Then hold up all of my books, kind of fanned out in your hands.

Solid afterwords.