Read Online Everything but the Squeal by Timothy Hallinan - Free Book Online
Authors: Timothy Hallinan
Ads: Link
sound. When a girl looks good with a bottle of whiskey in her mouth, it's time to be careful.
“ Banzai ,” she said, wiping her lips with the back of her wrist. “The divine wind, right?”
“What's the divine wind?” I asked, taking the bottle back and drinking. Her eyes watched the level of the whiskey as I drank. With every gulp the girl on the slab grew smaller and farther away.
“I don't know,” she said. “Those retards who flew their airplanes into the sides of aircraft carriers or whatever. They were the divine wind or something like that.” She reached out a brown hand and grasped the bottle and chugged at it. A flush came into her cheeks.
“ Kamikaze ,” I said as the penny dropped. “ Kamikaze , the divine wind.”
“Yeah,” she said, eyeing me over the mouth of the bottle, which was considerably emptier than it had been a moment ago. “What I want to know, when those guys finally got their orders and learned that they were supposed to go out and never come back, what I want to know is how come none of them ever said, ‘Are you out of your fucking mind ? ”
“The emperor was daddy,” I said. A wisp of pale hair hung over her brow, and I leaned forward and brushed it back. She didn't move away from me, so I sublimated the next impulse and took the bottle from her hand and drank. “It was an ancestral society. They did what daddy said they should do.”
“Hey, you,” she said, her blue eyes level. “You're talking to me like I'm an adult now. Before, you talked to me like I was a kid.”
“Before?” Before, as far as I was concerned, was the morgue.
“On the phone. Strips of skin, you talked about. Would you have said anything like that to an adult?”
“Um,” I said.
“If adults talked to each other the way they talk to kids, what do you think would happen?” She retrieved the bottle and put away a slug that would have elicited cries of admiration on skid row.
I thought about it. “The homicide rate would zoom.”
“The title of War and Peace would be War and War ,” she said.
“The neon signs at the corners,” I said, “would read DON'T WALK, STUPID.”
“Sometimes,” she said, “I think I'd like to kidnap an adult and tie him up in the cellar and talk to him like he's a kid until he dies.”
“How does anybody grow up?” I asked rhetorically.
She hoisted the whiskey and swallowed. “Don't ask me,” she said. “I haven't done it yet. Bass—that's a fish, and I learned this in biology—bass parents spend days guarding the hole where their eggs have been laid. All they care about in the whole world is guarding those eggs. They drive away anything that comes close, no matter how big it is. Even snapping turtles, the ones that could take your thumb off like macaroni. They don't even take a break to eat. For all I know, they don't go to the john.”
She took a more moderate sip. “Finally,” she continued, “after four or five days, the eggs hatch. By then the parents are ravenous. When the baby bass swim up out of the hole, their mommy and daddy eat them. Just snap them up as fast as they can. So what's the difference between bass parents and human parents?”
“I give up.”
“Bass parents eat the child all at once,” she said. “Human parents take years.”
“Some bass babies survive,” I said. “If they didn't, there wouldn't be any more bass.”
“So do some human babies,” she said. “The ones who manage to swim away before they get eaten.”
“Let's make a deal,” I said.
“What?”
“I ask you questions about your family, questions about Aimee. You answer them.”
She examined the level of the whiskey in the bottle, swinging her upper shin back and forth. It shone as if it had been polished. “Some deal,” she said. “Why don't you wait for my mother?”
“You didn't let me finish. You get to talk to me as if I were a kid and you were an adult.”
Abruptly she stopped swinging her leg and banged the bottle down onto
“ Banzai ,” she said, wiping her lips with the back of her wrist. “The divine wind, right?”
“What's the divine wind?” I asked, taking the bottle back and drinking. Her eyes watched the level of the whiskey as I drank. With every gulp the girl on the slab grew smaller and farther away.
“I don't know,” she said. “Those retards who flew their airplanes into the sides of aircraft carriers or whatever. They were the divine wind or something like that.” She reached out a brown hand and grasped the bottle and chugged at it. A flush came into her cheeks.
“ Kamikaze ,” I said as the penny dropped. “ Kamikaze , the divine wind.”
“Yeah,” she said, eyeing me over the mouth of the bottle, which was considerably emptier than it had been a moment ago. “What I want to know, when those guys finally got their orders and learned that they were supposed to go out and never come back, what I want to know is how come none of them ever said, ‘Are you out of your fucking mind ? ”
“The emperor was daddy,” I said. A wisp of pale hair hung over her brow, and I leaned forward and brushed it back. She didn't move away from me, so I sublimated the next impulse and took the bottle from her hand and drank. “It was an ancestral society. They did what daddy said they should do.”
“Hey, you,” she said, her blue eyes level. “You're talking to me like I'm an adult now. Before, you talked to me like I was a kid.”
“Before?” Before, as far as I was concerned, was the morgue.
“On the phone. Strips of skin, you talked about. Would you have said anything like that to an adult?”
“Um,” I said.
“If adults talked to each other the way they talk to kids, what do you think would happen?” She retrieved the bottle and put away a slug that would have elicited cries of admiration on skid row.
I thought about it. “The homicide rate would zoom.”
“The title of War and Peace would be War and War ,” she said.
“The neon signs at the corners,” I said, “would read DON'T WALK, STUPID.”
“Sometimes,” she said, “I think I'd like to kidnap an adult and tie him up in the cellar and talk to him like he's a kid until he dies.”
“How does anybody grow up?” I asked rhetorically.
She hoisted the whiskey and swallowed. “Don't ask me,” she said. “I haven't done it yet. Bass—that's a fish, and I learned this in biology—bass parents spend days guarding the hole where their eggs have been laid. All they care about in the whole world is guarding those eggs. They drive away anything that comes close, no matter how big it is. Even snapping turtles, the ones that could take your thumb off like macaroni. They don't even take a break to eat. For all I know, they don't go to the john.”
She took a more moderate sip. “Finally,” she continued, “after four or five days, the eggs hatch. By then the parents are ravenous. When the baby bass swim up out of the hole, their mommy and daddy eat them. Just snap them up as fast as they can. So what's the difference between bass parents and human parents?”
“I give up.”
“Bass parents eat the child all at once,” she said. “Human parents take years.”
“Some bass babies survive,” I said. “If they didn't, there wouldn't be any more bass.”
“So do some human babies,” she said. “The ones who manage to swim away before they get eaten.”
“Let's make a deal,” I said.
“What?”
“I ask you questions about your family, questions about Aimee. You answer them.”
She examined the level of the whiskey in the bottle, swinging her upper shin back and forth. It shone as if it had been polished. “Some deal,” she said. “Why don't you wait for my mother?”
“You didn't let me finish. You get to talk to me as if I were a kid and you were an adult.”
Abruptly she stopped swinging her leg and banged the bottle down onto
Similar Books
