Jeremy Maddux > Recent Status Updates

Oh fuck, they're going to take the bounty hunter along... Mr. Hall, this was a TERRIBLE storytelling decision.

Someone at the foot of the bed started checking in on Lary. Judging by the sighs and moans reaching me from over there, he was fast asleep. “Hey you, sleepyhead. Wake up, you owe us a penalty story.” Lary yawned broadly, like a tiger. There was a pause. “There was this pretty girl who once got run over by a train . . . ,” a husky and desperate voice finally said. “Right, shut up. Go back to sleep.”

'. . . it shined its purple eye on me and I understood that it was her, the Great Hairy, the one who lives under the beds in the places where the dust collects, the one who turns the floorboards over in search of mold. I asked her to tell me my future, but she never did that. “There is nothing more horrible than knowing what awaits us tomorrow,” she said and gave me one of her fangs in consolation . . .'

'They lived in filthy cages, and they ate raw eggs by sucking them out through cracked shells. Their ears were sharp and rough to the touch and their claws were like curved swords. No disease could ever befall them, except colds and scabies, from which they died . . .'

“See, I had me a cowboy and Indian set. Little cowboys with their guns, little redskins with their tomahawks and bows. But I had a secret, and I’m telling it to you now, man to man.”
“I was for the Indians.” The razor was back at the nape, cresting, peeling off more hair. “They seemed better to me. Stronger, more efficient, more spirited. No matter the cowboys’ numbers, the Indians just kept on coming."

"It’s fine for girl children. Girl children will have their own children one day and will need to know how to use toys to distract them. Little boys are different. You have to take those toys away. It’s the taking, in fact, that is so important.”

“When I was your age, I had toys, too. Yes, me. Not the fancy stuff you grew up with, with all those moving parts. Wooden toys, mostly, army men with guns painted on. They were gifts, from my grandmother almost without exception, because my father—well, my father was like me. It pained him, I believe, to see anable-bodied boy messing with dolls when there was a whole mountain of work to be done."