me.”
Nathan rummaged around in a kitchen drawer for an aspirin.
“The contest rules specify that the game player has to spell ‘pudding’ with the glyphs. There’s only a miniscule fraction of a chance,” DZ pinched two fingertips together with a millimeter of space between them, “that someone would be able to spell that out with the glyphs, and even if they had that kind of dumb blind luck, the game period’s only a week long. If someone can round up enough foil lids, then accidentally spell the word – which even the world’s best linguistic anthropologist can’t decipher – and get his certified mail package into the prize handling facility in time, well, good for him or her. But that’s not gonna happen.”
Nathan pressed a glass against the fridge water dispenser and swallowed two aspirin.
DZ clapped his hands. “We’re good, then? I’m going to take two of the enchanters to the circus with me.”
“I’m not going to oversee your contest,” Nathan said, knowing full well that he would, just like he always cleaned the kitchen and ordered the office supplies. “And I’m not staying late to work on this just because you’re bored and can’t be alone.”
DZ put his fingertips to his chest and fake-gasped. “What? An enchanter is marvelous company.”
“You can’t stand the enchanters,” Nathan pointed out.
DZ pulled on his blazer and adjusted his collar and cuffs. “You can stay here and work, or you can go home and detail your bathroom with Q-Tips while Masterpiece Mystery plays in the background.”
Nathan didn’t think that sounded like a terrible idea.
“But
I,
my petulant friend, have places to go.” DZ grabbed the keys to his car and left.
Nathan sat in the Galaxy Force seat without turning on the power and relaxed into it. He wanted to stay there forever.
Eric rode his bike past Moog’s Smoke Shop and Pet Wash (‘We Have Beer’), going full-out fast to try and blast any thought that passed across his mind into oblivion.
A tri-axle logging truck stacked high with logs hurtled down the road toward him, and another truck roared up from behind him. He veered off the road into the grass, but the wind buffeted him right into a wet ditch in front of a life-sized plastic bison, several feet off the road. He spit mud out of his mouth and tested his limbs. He was mud-free on a narrow stripe of clothing on his right side.
His cell phone rang. Eric sat up, supported himself on his left elbow, and pulled out his phone.
“Hi.” He wiped a chunk of mud and grass off his face near his hairline.
“What’s wrong?” Willa asked. No-nonsense. She would want to formulate an action plan, despite placing his heart on an anvil and aiming a sledgehammer at it.
“A minor incident,” he said, flexing his elbow.
“You crashed your bike,” Willa said with a matter-of-fact tone. “I keep telling you to get a car.”
“I like my bike.” And he couldn’t afford a car along with the Princess, which was a rolling money pit. He may as well get a horse, though that probably had higher maintenance costs than a car.
“Taffy likes
her
bike, but she’s twelve and doesn’t have her driver’s license.”
Eric scooted back and leaned against the bison. A thatch of plastic fur jutted uncomfortably into his back. A dark blue luxury sedan cruised by, and slowed. The lawyers –
Striped Tie, Chronograph Watch, Thin Nose, and his friend Mark, driving – heading out of Jamesville back into the city.
Striped Tie stuck his head out the window. “I hope you used a condom!” he yelled.
Chronograph joined in. “Moo!”
The suits honked the car horn and erupted in laughter. Eric wondered if these guys actually spent any time at the office, or if they just drove around all day looking for people to make fun of.
“What was that?” Willa said over the phone. “Where are you?”
He rested an arm on his bent knee and cracked his neck to the side. “Almost home.”
“Good, you can do me a
Nathan rummaged around in a kitchen drawer for an aspirin.
“The contest rules specify that the game player has to spell ‘pudding’ with the glyphs. There’s only a miniscule fraction of a chance,” DZ pinched two fingertips together with a millimeter of space between them, “that someone would be able to spell that out with the glyphs, and even if they had that kind of dumb blind luck, the game period’s only a week long. If someone can round up enough foil lids, then accidentally spell the word – which even the world’s best linguistic anthropologist can’t decipher – and get his certified mail package into the prize handling facility in time, well, good for him or her. But that’s not gonna happen.”
Nathan pressed a glass against the fridge water dispenser and swallowed two aspirin.
DZ clapped his hands. “We’re good, then? I’m going to take two of the enchanters to the circus with me.”
“I’m not going to oversee your contest,” Nathan said, knowing full well that he would, just like he always cleaned the kitchen and ordered the office supplies. “And I’m not staying late to work on this just because you’re bored and can’t be alone.”
DZ put his fingertips to his chest and fake-gasped. “What? An enchanter is marvelous company.”
“You can’t stand the enchanters,” Nathan pointed out.
DZ pulled on his blazer and adjusted his collar and cuffs. “You can stay here and work, or you can go home and detail your bathroom with Q-Tips while Masterpiece Mystery plays in the background.”
Nathan didn’t think that sounded like a terrible idea.
“But
I,
my petulant friend, have places to go.” DZ grabbed the keys to his car and left.
Nathan sat in the Galaxy Force seat without turning on the power and relaxed into it. He wanted to stay there forever.
Eric rode his bike past Moog’s Smoke Shop and Pet Wash (‘We Have Beer’), going full-out fast to try and blast any thought that passed across his mind into oblivion.
A tri-axle logging truck stacked high with logs hurtled down the road toward him, and another truck roared up from behind him. He veered off the road into the grass, but the wind buffeted him right into a wet ditch in front of a life-sized plastic bison, several feet off the road. He spit mud out of his mouth and tested his limbs. He was mud-free on a narrow stripe of clothing on his right side.
His cell phone rang. Eric sat up, supported himself on his left elbow, and pulled out his phone.
“Hi.” He wiped a chunk of mud and grass off his face near his hairline.
“What’s wrong?” Willa asked. No-nonsense. She would want to formulate an action plan, despite placing his heart on an anvil and aiming a sledgehammer at it.
“A minor incident,” he said, flexing his elbow.
“You crashed your bike,” Willa said with a matter-of-fact tone. “I keep telling you to get a car.”
“I like my bike.” And he couldn’t afford a car along with the Princess, which was a rolling money pit. He may as well get a horse, though that probably had higher maintenance costs than a car.
“Taffy likes
her
bike, but she’s twelve and doesn’t have her driver’s license.”
Eric scooted back and leaned against the bison. A thatch of plastic fur jutted uncomfortably into his back. A dark blue luxury sedan cruised by, and slowed. The lawyers –
Striped Tie, Chronograph Watch, Thin Nose, and his friend Mark, driving – heading out of Jamesville back into the city.
Striped Tie stuck his head out the window. “I hope you used a condom!” he yelled.
Chronograph joined in. “Moo!”
The suits honked the car horn and erupted in laughter. Eric wondered if these guys actually spent any time at the office, or if they just drove around all day looking for people to make fun of.
“What was that?” Willa said over the phone. “Where are you?”
He rested an arm on his bent knee and cracked his neck to the side. “Almost home.”
“Good, you can do me a
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