July 27, 2003
11:58 P.M.
Dana squinted and leaned foward, brushing the hair from her face. She stared at the computer screen for a moment, taking another long drag from her cigarette before sitting back in the chair and shaking her head. It wasn't the gay porn she'd found on her son's computer that really bothered her. The kid listened to Celine Dion, for Christ's sake. It wasn't much of a surprise. But in the same half-hidden folder (labeled "Math Homework", which immediately tipped her off as he never did his any of his goddamn homework, math or otherwise) she'd found dozens of pictures depicting grizzly crime scenes, suicides, or horrific accidents. For every erect penis or glistening he-man, there was a headless body or charred corpse. Did he find these photos erotic as well? Then why were they in the same folder?
She closed the folder and turned off the computer. When finally she was enveloped in the complete darkness, and could no longer see herself hideously mirrored in the glare of the moniter, she began to cry. She sat, invisible, weeping into her apron, stopping occasionally to take a drag from her cigarette, which flared before tapering off, the only thing visible in the darkness, like a beacon on a briny sea.
July 28, 2003
7:34 A.M.
Dom Crook surveyed the empty room, kicking at a used condom on the filthy dirt floor.
The real-estate agent laughed politely, "Once you're settled in, Mr. Crook, I doubt any of the local kids will try anything like...that," she grimaced, "After all, the police station is right across the street."
Dom nodded, "I suppose. It is a bit small, even smaller than my old shop."
"Oh, you have another shop? That's great, it'll be like a little franchise!"
"No," he said, running his finger along a dusty windowsill, "I had another shop, back in Lemon. Have you ever been?"
"To Lemon? No, but my husband's sister used to live there."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes, her name is Nosegay. She's in prison now, right here in Calistan. Right across the street! He likes it because she's closer, he can see her everyday."
"Right across the street, did you say?" He sounded nervous.
"Oh, don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Crook. She's locked up good and tight for a long time. A very long time, serves her right after what she did."
"A-anyway," Crook said, "Back to the shop. How soon can I move in?"
"Well, it'll take about a week for all the papers to be filed. Plus, the electricity and water need to be turned back on. I'd say you could be holding a grand opening in about three weeks!"
He thought for a moment.
"I'll take it."
11:58 P.M.
Dana squinted and leaned foward, brushing the hair from her face. She stared at the computer screen for a moment, taking another long drag from her cigarette before sitting back in the chair and shaking her head. It wasn't the gay porn she'd found on her son's computer that really bothered her. The kid listened to Celine Dion, for Christ's sake. It wasn't much of a surprise. But in the same half-hidden folder (labeled "Math Homework", which immediately tipped her off as he never did his any of his goddamn homework, math or otherwise) she'd found dozens of pictures depicting grizzly crime scenes, suicides, or horrific accidents. For every erect penis or glistening he-man, there was a headless body or charred corpse. Did he find these photos erotic as well? Then why were they in the same folder?
She closed the folder and turned off the computer. When finally she was enveloped in the complete darkness, and could no longer see herself hideously mirrored in the glare of the moniter, she began to cry. She sat, invisible, weeping into her apron, stopping occasionally to take a drag from her cigarette, which flared before tapering off, the only thing visible in the darkness, like a beacon on a briny sea.
July 28, 2003
7:34 A.M.
Dom Crook surveyed the empty room, kicking at a used condom on the filthy dirt floor.
The real-estate agent laughed politely, "Once you're settled in, Mr. Crook, I doubt any of the local kids will try anything like...that," she grimaced, "After all, the police station is right across the street."
Dom nodded, "I suppose. It is a bit small, even smaller than my old shop."
"Oh, you have another shop? That's great, it'll be like a little franchise!"
"No," he said, running his finger along a dusty windowsill, "I had another shop, back in Lemon. Have you ever been?"
"To Lemon? No, but my husband's sister used to live there."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes, her name is Nosegay. She's in prison now, right here in Calistan. Right across the street! He likes it because she's closer, he can see her everyday."
"Right across the street, did you say?" He sounded nervous.
"Oh, don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Crook. She's locked up good and tight for a long time. A very long time, serves her right after what she did."
"A-anyway," Crook said, "Back to the shop. How soon can I move in?"
"Well, it'll take about a week for all the papers to be filed. Plus, the electricity and water need to be turned back on. I'd say you could be holding a grand opening in about three weeks!"
He thought for a moment.
"I'll take it."
