Selected Works of A.K. Thorne and His Friends

Day Twenty-Six – The Epic and Sudden Fall of the Gant Family

Godhood of the Infinitesimally Small

I estimate one thousand degrees, give or take.

My rear-view mirror sags in the heat, and as I drive I see only my hand gripping the gear stick. My car has become a death trap–-every inch a study in the surface temperature of Mercury.

    I look at the empty pill bottle in the only cupholder not filled with Dum-Dum wrappers, and momentarily I notice the brain-zaps starting again.

 

*

 

The clearance section is a wasteland of garbage. I hate romance. I hate historical fiction and self-help books. I despise cheap fiction, loose sci-fi, vague fantasy–-these shelves are overflowing with the discarded volumes that fit the bill of “shit I wouldn’t waste time touching”.

The aisle is cramped. There are fat people crowding me, pawing at Crichton for a dollar, Brown for three quarters, Sperry’s magical Texas gardening phantasmagoria for your soul, a three dollar copy of Gray’s…

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