This morning when I woke up there was a book on my pillow. It's called Bigfoot Exposed, by some scientist who is trying to figure out if Bigfoot is for real or not. I guess Rube doesn't hate me too much. I tried to ask him about it and he told me to let him know when I finished it. He probably wants to ask me a bunch of questions to prove that I read it. He's always looking for ways to catch me lying or cheating or just being myself. And when I try to just talk to him like a normal person he gets all weird. Like, I would say thanks for the book, but he'll act annoyed and tell me to eat my breakfast and stop playing with my food. So I'll just say thanks for the book here, since he's reading my innermost thoughts anyway. THANKS FOR THE BOOK, RUBE! I HOPE IT DOESN'T SUCK!

Rube did surprise me by saying that he was impressed that I knew how to use a semicolon. I was like, whatever, I'm not illiterate. I was in honors English class last year.

I could have used a book last night. I had the most boring fucking reap of all time. Carbon monoxide. Nothing happens for hours, you just sit and wait and look at the poor sap through their bedroom window as they're doing yoga or watching the news or whatever and then all of a sudden you have a newlydead standing there blinking at you.

Speaking of newlydeads, so I was in the middle of the story of that crazy gas station robber and the Korean gas station guy who pulled out a huge fucking gun on the robber. It was just like a Quentin Tarantino movie. There was a weird second where I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and then I ran at the robber - Kessler - funny how I remember some people's names - and I tackled him around the knees. I don't know what I thought would happen, but as I brought him down he shot me. Right through the back.

Just because I'm undead and I have a really fast metabolism and I can heal quicker than normal doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt when someone shoots you in the back, because it does. It hurts. It really fucking hurts to be shot in the back. Even so, I was able to reap the guy before the Korean raised his shotgun, leaned over the counter and blew a huge hole in Kessler's face. It was disgusting. Pieces of Kessler splattered all over the place and he fell to the floor, me still holding his legs. The Korean guy was screaming, cursing, in some language that I guess in Korean, and I guess he thought I was dead or something because he got really freaked out when I started to stand up. I tried to ignore him and I used Kessler's dead body to push myself up. I was bleeding all over the place, and I slipped in a puddle of what could have been my blood or Kessler's blood or both mixed together. Kessler's soul was standing there looking at me, and its funny how crazy people don't look so crazy anymore after they're dead. It's like everyone gets one moment of clarity after they died, if their soul wasn't traumatized too badly. That's why I feel like I have to grab the soul in time, no matter what.

"Is that me?" He was looking at his mostly faceless body.

"Yeah." I stumbled to the door and he followed me.

"Am I dead?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I shot you."

"Yeah." I heard police sirens in the distance as I made my way across the parking lot, across the street and toward Daisy, who was still sitting in the car chatting to whatever horny asshole that had called her at three in the morning. The Korean must have had a silent alarm. I wondered if Roxy was in one of those cars. Daisy saw me coming and started the car.

"Listen," I said to Kessler. My voice was wheezy. "I have to go, and I'm sorry." I took a deep breath, the first one I could remember taking since the whole thing began. It was painful. "You need to stay here and watch for your lights." He looked like he really didn't understand what I was talking about, but he nodded.

We peeled out of there with the headlights off and sped down the highway. Daisy had hung up her cell and looked weirdly grim as she drove. I asked her to take me to Matt's. While we drove I tried to smoke a cigarette and I realized that smoke was coming out of my back through the bullet hole. That was weird.

Matt wasn't home, which was just fine with me. Daisy left me there and I did my best to clean myself up. I stripped down to my shirt and panties, took three or four perco-pops and fell asleep on the futon in the living room.

I woke up because someone was pounding on the door. I couldn't figure out what was going on for a minute. I tried answering my cell phone but of course that didn't do any good. I finally figured it out and stumbled to the door. I thought maybe Matt had locked himself out, so I didn't bother to put on my pants. I opened the door and I was surprised to see Rube. It didn't occur to me at that point to be self conscious even though I was half naked. I just wanted him to stop pounding. It wasn't quite light outside, and it was still early enough to wake up the neighbors, so I let him in and told him to keep it the fuck down. He was not in the mood to be told to keep it the fuck down.

"You live here?" He looked around critically at the mess. I was suddenly very self conscious of the apartment, which didn't make sense. I mean, it's not like it was my place. I wasn't responsible for it.

"Yeah."

"This place is a fucking dump."

He was right for a change.

"What do you want?"

"I heard you got shot."

"Yeah. The guy you sent me to reap was a crazy motherfucking robber." I said accusingly.

Rube glared at me. "I heard you got shot because you were trying to be some kind of daredevil. That's not exactly keeping a low profile. What did you think you were doing?"

I stared at him, feeling woozy. "What?"

"Daisy told me that she saw you lunge at the guy after he pointed the gun at you. You want to explain what exactly you were thinking?"

I could barely remember what happened a few hours ago. I shook my head. I just said that I knew he was going to bite it, and I had to get his soul before he did so I did what I had to do. It didn't matter anyway, it's not like I could have gotten killed.

"It's not you I'm worried about! What if he'd decided to shoot you through the head? It'd be kind of hard to explain to the paramedics how you're walking around all bushy-tailed with pieces of your brain on your sweater. Let me tell you something." Rube got real close to my face then, so close that I could smell the pipe tobacco he smokes. "Sometimes you just have to let nature take its course. Give the stiffs some perspective on life and death. They're going to die whether you reap the soul first or not."

I was... whatever the word is when someone's opinion pisses you off. Offended. I had never let anyone die without reaping them first, and I wasn't about to start. He used a blackjack analogy: always double down on eleven, and always back off when someone points a gun at you. I told him that I was not about to let someone get their face blown off without popping the soul out, and he told me that it wasn't up for debate, and that I was going to have to start just doing as I was told.

I started arguing again, and then I started coughing. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and when I wiped my mouth with my hand there was blood on it. Rube nodded at me and asked me if it hurt.

"Yeah."

"Let me see."

I stared at him. I was not going to lift my shirt for him. Pervert.

"Come on, maybe I can get the bullet out."

I told him that it was okay, that I had it under control and that he'd better leave before my boyfriend got back. He raised his eyebrows at that. I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing pants. I looked around and found them in a crumpled heap on the floor, and I hurried to put them on as Rube watched. It took me a little longer than it normally would have because it hurt to bend over and it hurt to stand up straight, and it really hurt to try and pull my jeans up over my legs. Rube surprised me by coming around behind me and putting his hand on my waist. He grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them up over my hips. He grabbed me by the shoulders and held me still while he looked at the bullet hole in the back of my shirt.

"That looks like it stings. Probably tore out a chunk of lung with it."

I shrugged him off of me and turned around. Then he asked if I was hungry and did I want to go get some breakfast. I couldn't believe it. I was like, listen, thanks for the offer but I really don't think that I wanted to go out for pancakes. He asked why not, and I said that it was a really nice gesture, but that we weren't going to be friends because he was an asshole. He seemed to think that was pretty funny.

"I'm an asshole."

"Yes you are! I don't know what you think being nice is, but since I've been here you've barely spoken to me. Or when you have, you've just been a jerk."

"It's not my job to be nice to you."

I told him that in that case there was no reason for him to be there, and that he really needed to be going. Rube cocked his head at me and looked kind of thoughtful, like he was trying to figure something out. He looks like that a lot when he's talking to me.

"You're right, I haven't been as friendly as I could have been. Frankly, I don't care. My only concern is to make sure you do what you're supposed to do. Niceness doesn't enter into it."

"So what are we doing here?"

"I just wanted to let you know what kind of opportunity you have here."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"That's up to you."

I told him he was being cryptic and weird. Rube said do you want me to spell it out for you? And I said yes.

"As far as everyone else is concerned right now, you're disposable. No one knows you; no one wants to know you, because you're such a fucking mess. You've been here long enough to make some friends, and I don't see that happening. You managed to con some guy into letting you stay with him, but how long do you think that will last? What are your plans? Who do you talk to?"

"I know people."

"You know Mason. Let me give you a little friendly advice: Mason is not the ally you need right now."

I was really getting mad, so I told him to get the fuck out in the nicest way possible. I even opened the door for him and stood there waiting while he walked over.

"Look," I said. "I appreciate the concern." I coughed again and wiped the gross dark blood on the leg of my jeans. "But you really don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried." He stood in the doorway and looked at me. "I just thought I would give you fair warning."

I asked him what he was talking about, and he just looked at me.

"Get your shit together. That's all." He left. I slammed the door and went back to sleep and I didn't really think about it anymore.