A. M. Homes amerikai
1961. december 18. (Washington, DC, USA) –
|Teljes név||Amy M. Homes|
A security guard, who could have passed for a twelve-year-old dressed up for Halloween, walked by Frank. He smiled at the girls and rested his hands on the heavy leather equipment belt around his waist. The girls blushed. Frank imagined the boys took turns playing cop. When they got to the mall they flipped for it and then the winner (or was it the loser?) changed into the uniform. Frank noticed the guard had a gun, a real gun, and wondered why a twelve-year-old in a Halloween costume was carrying a real gun.
The Bullet Catcher
She passed a homeless man camped out in a small park. „Would you like a pizza?” Jody asked, holding out the box.
„Is it poison?”
„No, I ate some. It's just not very good, too chewy.” Jody lifted the top so the man could see.
„Has it got tomato sauce on it? That looks like tomato.”
„Yeah, well, it's a pizza.”
„I can't take the tomato,” the man said. „Doesn't agree with my stomach. I like the other kind though. What do they call it – white pizza. You got any of that?”
Jody shrugged. „Sorry.”
„Well, I guess you could go on and leave it on the bench. I'm expecting company later, maybe they'll want some.”
Jody put down the pizza and walked away.
„Next time,” he called after her, „get the other kind. It's healthier.”
I’m hiding in the closet with my life suspended. I’m hiding and I’m scared to death. I want to come clean, to see myself clearly, in detail, like a hallucination, a deathbed vision, a Kodacolor photograph. I need to know if I’m alive or dead.
I’m hiding in the linen closet and I want to introduce myself to myself. I need to like what I see. If I am really as horrible as I feel, I will spontaneously combust, leaving a small heap of ashes that can be picked up with the DustBuster. I will explode myself in a flash of fire, leaving a letter of most profuse apology.
He left me at the table with burgers and fries, and I thought more about how many of his fries I could steal than whether or not I was ever going home again. I had no reason to leave; I was at McDonald’s with two burgers, large fries, and a shake. I didn’t know what crazy was. I didn’t know that sometimes you can’t tell the difference between a real crazy and a regular person and that’s what makes them crazy in the first place.
Looking for Johnny