Don’t ask me how it worked or how anyone got oxygen because what did I care? Everyone was so sincere and sincere is sex, so no, no one minded living underground, in our burrow or anywhere else, since violence went away forever and life was a boudoir mall cave: rock, and open-faced people, and things people bought before the underground time.
I finally find Mara, mostly in one piece, but with someone’s ankle bone imbedded in her temple. I take that as a sign that it’s time to go. I hoist Mara up onto my shoulder, climb over the slow-breathing bodies in the doorway, and prop her up in the backseat. I work on digging the ankle bone out of her skull until Tukie and the babydyke stagger out and start up the van.
Tell Sarah that someone bought her feces flag piece. She’ll know what piece that is.
(Have you checked out Oprah Read This, generally? It’s a pretty wonderful project.)
I have a small mouth and a protective urge
And if you haven’t yet, check out the Orange Alert Podcast Smiths-i-sode, featuring a variety of indie writers (Amy Guth! Mel Bosworth! xTx!) reading the Smiths, plus some pretty excellent Smiths covers from the likes of the Welcome Wagon and Spanish Prisoners.