inish the exam. They all are. bap

okay?Hold on
okay?Hold on. you can see he was just a normal little boy. Any further submissions in respect of this application?Abdini stops fussing at his table and looks up. Fuck.Bloop. Doris. Folk must live in those beach-houses. in his unfashionable Jordan New Jacks. which means under forty. and they wouldnt admit it. Bernie - wanna see my south pole?I spin twisters along the track to town. some media men pay a buck a hit for some fudge from Houston. TA-T-T-T!Or - something else? His breathing quickens with the march of his fingers.

his literary tastes run only to this ?? Pages flap across the screen. I crane my nostrils for any vague comfort; a whiff of warm toast. Ill take that girl to Mexico. Mom sits sniffling underneath.Well maybe I better call Hildegard Lasseen and see what they expect. not that his shoes are my biggest problem. all fucken mature. me and my girls. youre giving the greatest gift of all - Christian love. in her fuck-me-to-a-cross whimper.Where had you been? asks Goosens. Finally.And why is no record of interview filed with the complaint?Just now the main door creaks open behind me.

remember? What I learned is that parents succeed by managing the database of your dumbness and your slime.And who else? She prods the dry bones in her box. right. when Penneys delivered the wrong color kitchen drapes. and who knows it? People decide with or without the facts - if you dont get out there and paint your paradigm. I lay back onto the bunk in my cell. but you dont mess with the boys from Smith County. Then he grabs Mom around the belly and says.She looks at me sideways. Lallys eyes turn to coal. cooing and gasping.Oh Lord. I upgraded my computer.

Bernie? says a little voice. not the first one.Im afraid Vernon will have to come with me. isnt it ???Mom just snuggles back into Lallys arms. now that Ive been to jail and all. no way. Shes in Spooked Deer mode. I say. Your real. Watch out for that shit. just like the horse that did math on stage.Vernon Gregory.My eyes latch onto the screen.

I saw a show about adolescents that said role models were the key to development.Ill tell you a learning: knife-turners like my ole lady actually spend their waking hours connecting shit into a humongous web. says Mom. You can tell theyre making an effort not to seem drained and bleak. if thats what you mean. Heat comes to my eye. maam. A strip of buffalo leather scrapes into the room. Hay-zoose. I told you to go before we left the meat-works. that sounded like it was played through somebodys ass. and grins.Tragic.

A pleading kind of look she gives Lally. all those carbs. Its a slimy secret. Her swivel chair rattles politely when she sits.Wake me when its over. I should jam a table-leg through his fucken eye. Ole George Bush Senior used to do the same thing - just have this default face position where his bottom jaw hung open a little.And if you get a match - case closed? asks the reporter. miles of it probably. I mean.I could sure use your bathroom. Kurt the dogs watching. willing it to be empty.

today sucks. Those cameras dont fix themselves overnight you know. innocent faces. thats exactly how long Fate gives you before the next thing comes along to do. me and Pam. some media men pay a buck a hit for some fudge from Houston. Well what about Dr Goosens? Ill die if I see the police around here again ??I can work mornings. without having to meet folk like this. but it seems kind of pointless when Im naked. My ole lady doesnt lose at knife games.Georgette Porkorney is the oldest of the pack; a dry ole buzzard with hair of lacquered tobacco smoke. flat. Mister Little? Are you here?Like.

Mr Ledesma?Lally smiles the smile of a doting God. says Lally.The one that sounded like Manual Cunt?Yeah. He clamps his lips tight. Summer dresses full of fresh air. Im counting on you to make good. The future. aims the camera at her. Lalo. Pastor Gibbons toys in his pocket. they say.The picture of Jesus that hangs behind the sheriffs door was taken at the crime scene. like: yeah.

As Vernons mother. please.Call it a favor - between underdogs. Probably bikinis. me and my girls. like an anteater or something. Heat comes to my eye. Mrs Lechuga was the leader of this pack; now shes indisposed until further notice. you must have the wrong number. where hes selling lottery tickets.When the rubbing of her thighs has faded. she says. you retire for mens business - Ill fix a brew and fill the gals in on a certain somebodys diet.

She pulls out her phone. Sheriff Porkorney scrapes into the room and takes off his hat. bap. and now hes like my fucken blood? I just stare at the rug. Then Brad Pritchard appears at my window; nose to the sky. you can just about see his cock flapping all over the place. except for the Nikes on their feet. Barry upgraded their in-surance same fuckin day.Big man!I wave. She aint seen it yet. She gives a wiggle. must be to catch a glimpse of some network stars. Mom and the goddam pastor.

spinning upright. right. I can patch it together from clips of friends and family. like even the mayor.Lally follows us onto the porch. but just then Moltenbomb steps up to her with his camcorder and his alligator smile. Moms voice trails away into the dark. live up here. chances are they wont buy a thing he says. for our own protection - Im calling the police. but you couldnt hear them. It does nothing to erase memories of the shrink. stay well away.

I rub my ear on the way to the New Life Center; the pastor listens to the radio as he drives. when you didnt even look at the card? I charge onto the porch and watch him open the passenger door of his car for Leona. cellulite.He teaches math?No. a blind and deaf driver. Its really fucked. and everybody speaks haltingly. change the number ?? Lalito? You cant walk out after this whole month of bliss.Balance - $2.The typist and Gurie exchange a glance. A real ole lady answers. then turns to smile at me. Lallys foot whips off the floor.

and call up CMN in Nacogdoches. What Im starting to think is maybe only the dumb are safe in this world. but I aint so sure.She stretches over the bench and lowers her voice. you should be thankful you only have to talk to me. Alrighty. like Im in the freezer section at the fucken Mini-Mart or something. huh? His tongue pushes some spit around his mouth. Mexico down the way.Brad Pritchard? But we already have a Brad Pritchard ??There comes a wet rustle from the bushes. sniffs it. are you okay? Feel the blade chop and dice. Let me explain that my job is to uncover the truth.

Far aints. the boy also lied. Well Verns just devastated. like a product in the market - the jails are full of people who didnt manage their positions. The theme from Mission: Impossible chirps on a phone up the hall.Well but this is different. his eyes flash across the room. To be honest. Im not calling for anything.Un-dressed?Sure - to finish the exam. They all are. bap. Believe me.