mood as easily as his interest in Benji had risen.
“I don’t.” Patrick didn’t need to elaborate.
“But you said everyone does.”
Benji’s innocence was very quickly becoming Patrick’s least favorite quality. They had to find the howler and fast. Patrick’s good night’s sleep depended on it.
“Some people are different.” Patrick clenched his fists at his sides, and he stepped up the pace.
“What’s so different about you?” Benji asked, hurrying behind.
And now Benji was rapidly becoming less attractive.
“This way,” Patrick commanded him and snatched Benji by his shirt.
Benji yipped as they took a sharp right through office furniture. Patrick crouched low behind a dividing wall and peered through the network of table legs. Benji stood over him, not getting with the program as quickly as Patrick had hoped.
The howler had claimed the SPÖL TV stand and shambled around it drunkenly. He was a disheveled mess of an older guy with a potbelly and broken glasses. At least he hadn’t shown up covered in dog shit.
“Have you seen my wife?” he asked a customer who passed him by. “Have you seen her? Gray hair? Flowery dress? Her name’s Mary. Have you seen Mary?” Another customer pushed along with her cart. Her beeper sounded that she was needed in Bambini Mondo. “Mary! Mary !” he screamed as he burst into tears.
Benji’s lip trembled as he stood out in plain view. “He’s so sa—”
“ Get down .” Patrick yanked him by the waistband of his jeans.
Benji flopped like a marionette to the floor next to him.
“Welcome to your crash course in showing someone the exit,” Patrick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Did you have to nearly rip off my pants?” Benji said as he awkwardly readjusted.
Patrick didn’t pay him any mind. “You need a smaller size. I’ll get Karin on it.” He pointed toward the sobbing old man. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re my trainee, so it’s your job to observe on this one. Got it?”
“I’m not a kindergartener. I teach them, you know,” Benji whispered.
“Well, this isn’t painting pine cones time.” Patrick snapped his fingers. “Stick with me.”
Benji nodded. Finally, no witty comebacks. At last he was regaining his attractiveness. Maybe halfway yanking off his jeans had something to do with it. The situation necessitated the chance to cop a feel. That was Patrick’s story, and he was sticking to it—for the time being.
“Okay, the short and sweet of it,” Patrick whispered. “It’s like they said in Ghostbusters, we’re made of spiritual energy. But the more we interact with the living world, the more we deplete it. Also, helping other spirits along requires using quite a bit of energy. So we ration it so we don’t dissipate right away.”
Benji thumbed his chin. “And if we dissipate?”
“It’s off to the ball pit.” Patrick turned back to the howler. “Okay. Ready?” He popped up out of hiding and pasted on his best smile.
“Wait, wha—” Benji squeaked.
Patrick toed him with his Nike, trying to urge him into following his lead.
The howler turned, eyeing Patrick with hunger and panic in his eyes. Patrick relaxed his stance and drooped his shoulders, portraying a nonthreatening posture.
“May I help you find something, sir?” Patrick asked sweetly.
Benji peeked out from behind the divider, and Patrick nodded to him.
The howler, thankfully, stopped howling. “I’m… I’m looking for Mary,” he said, confused.
“Mary?” Patrick repeated, feigning committing the name to memory. “I’m sure I can help you find her. Now, tell me where you saw her last.”
The howler looked down at the SPÖL and ran his fingers over the surface of the walnut particleboard. “We were building the TV stand. And we were missing a screw. I came back to see if I could get an extra. I think? And that man over there, he’s going to buy the same thing. But there aren’t enough screws.”
Patrick
“I don’t.” Patrick didn’t need to elaborate.
“But you said everyone does.”
Benji’s innocence was very quickly becoming Patrick’s least favorite quality. They had to find the howler and fast. Patrick’s good night’s sleep depended on it.
“Some people are different.” Patrick clenched his fists at his sides, and he stepped up the pace.
“What’s so different about you?” Benji asked, hurrying behind.
And now Benji was rapidly becoming less attractive.
“This way,” Patrick commanded him and snatched Benji by his shirt.
Benji yipped as they took a sharp right through office furniture. Patrick crouched low behind a dividing wall and peered through the network of table legs. Benji stood over him, not getting with the program as quickly as Patrick had hoped.
The howler had claimed the SPÖL TV stand and shambled around it drunkenly. He was a disheveled mess of an older guy with a potbelly and broken glasses. At least he hadn’t shown up covered in dog shit.
“Have you seen my wife?” he asked a customer who passed him by. “Have you seen her? Gray hair? Flowery dress? Her name’s Mary. Have you seen Mary?” Another customer pushed along with her cart. Her beeper sounded that she was needed in Bambini Mondo. “Mary! Mary !” he screamed as he burst into tears.
Benji’s lip trembled as he stood out in plain view. “He’s so sa—”
“ Get down .” Patrick yanked him by the waistband of his jeans.
Benji flopped like a marionette to the floor next to him.
“Welcome to your crash course in showing someone the exit,” Patrick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Did you have to nearly rip off my pants?” Benji said as he awkwardly readjusted.
Patrick didn’t pay him any mind. “You need a smaller size. I’ll get Karin on it.” He pointed toward the sobbing old man. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re my trainee, so it’s your job to observe on this one. Got it?”
“I’m not a kindergartener. I teach them, you know,” Benji whispered.
“Well, this isn’t painting pine cones time.” Patrick snapped his fingers. “Stick with me.”
Benji nodded. Finally, no witty comebacks. At last he was regaining his attractiveness. Maybe halfway yanking off his jeans had something to do with it. The situation necessitated the chance to cop a feel. That was Patrick’s story, and he was sticking to it—for the time being.
“Okay, the short and sweet of it,” Patrick whispered. “It’s like they said in Ghostbusters, we’re made of spiritual energy. But the more we interact with the living world, the more we deplete it. Also, helping other spirits along requires using quite a bit of energy. So we ration it so we don’t dissipate right away.”
Benji thumbed his chin. “And if we dissipate?”
“It’s off to the ball pit.” Patrick turned back to the howler. “Okay. Ready?” He popped up out of hiding and pasted on his best smile.
“Wait, wha—” Benji squeaked.
Patrick toed him with his Nike, trying to urge him into following his lead.
The howler turned, eyeing Patrick with hunger and panic in his eyes. Patrick relaxed his stance and drooped his shoulders, portraying a nonthreatening posture.
“May I help you find something, sir?” Patrick asked sweetly.
Benji peeked out from behind the divider, and Patrick nodded to him.
The howler, thankfully, stopped howling. “I’m… I’m looking for Mary,” he said, confused.
“Mary?” Patrick repeated, feigning committing the name to memory. “I’m sure I can help you find her. Now, tell me where you saw her last.”
The howler looked down at the SPÖL and ran his fingers over the surface of the walnut particleboard. “We were building the TV stand. And we were missing a screw. I came back to see if I could get an extra. I think? And that man over there, he’s going to buy the same thing. But there aren’t enough screws.”
Patrick
Similar Books
