Vernon God Little

"God knows I tried my best to learn the ways of this world, even had inklings we could be glorious; but after all thats happened, the inkles aint easy anymore. I mean—what kind of fucken life is this?"

"When the rubbing of her thighs has faded, I crane my nostrils for any vague comfort; a whiff of warm toast, a spearmint breath. But all I whiff, over the sweat and the barbecue sauce, is school—the kind of pulse bullyboys give off when they spot a quiet one, a wordsmith, in a corner. The scent of lumber being cut for a fucken cross."

"Can you name the two forces underlying all life in this world?"

"Velcro spiders seize my spine. You know gray areas are invisible on video. You dont want to be here the day shit gets figured out in black and white. I aint saying Im to blame, dont get me wrong. Im calm about that, see? Under my grief glows a serenity that comes from knowing the truth always wins in the end. Why do movies end happy? Because they imitate life. You know it, I know it. But my ole lady lacks that fucken knowledge, big-time."

"The sheriff puffs up like he just discovered fucken relativity."

"Moms best friend is called Palmyra. Everybody calls her Pam. Shes fatter than Mom, so Mom feels good around her. Moms other friends are slimmer. Theyre not her best friends."

"Deep fucken trouble keeps my euphoria at bay. Pam just molds into the car. Her souls already knotted over the choice of side-order, you can tell. Shell end up getting coleslaw anyway, on account of Mom says its healthy. Its vegetables, see. Me, I need something healthier today. Like the afternoon bus out of town."

"Reporters and camera people roam the streets in packs. I keep my head down, and scan the floor for fire ants. Far aints, Pam calls them. Fuck knows what other fauna climbs aboard in the century it takes her to get in and out of the fucken car. Wild Fucken Kingdom, I swear."

"Next thing you know, Im halfway out of the building in Palmyras gravity-field. You just cant argue with this much modern woman, I tell you."

"So the door flies open. Pam wobbles in, bolt upright like she has books on her head. Its on account of her center of gravity. Vernie, you eatin ribs? What did you eat today?"

"Outside, a jungle of clouds has grown over the sun. They kindle the whiff of damp dog that always blows around here before a storm, burping lightning without a sound. Fate clouds. They mean get the fuck out of town, go visit Nana or something, until things quiet down, until the truth seeps out. Get rid of the drugs from home, then take a road trip."

"This ink would survive Armageddon, I swear. Cockroaches, and this fucken fingerprint ink."