He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he could force the talons out of his head with his tightly clenched eyes and grinding jaw. But, even in the darkness, he could sense the book beside him. Could picture that leather cover . . . . “Sir, I’m not fucking telling you again!” The little note card inside the gilded frame . . . “Or what? Or what, you son of a bitch? You gonna taser me, pig? You gonna zap my fuckin’ ass? That it, big man?” The curves and loops of such innocent looking handwriting . . . “Step back! Step the fuck back!” Mona’s Secret Delights. The shouting from outside of the car now sounded distant, as if it were nothing more than a television playing a little too loudly through the walls of a padded room. “Come on! Come on, mother fucker! Pig! Let’s do this . . . .” The growl of Earl’s voice degraded into a garbled mash of sounds that, for some reason, made Daryl think of a man sitting in an electric chair. He could picture spittle spraying from his brother’s lips, drool sliding down his chin as layers of fat quivered and jerked, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body flopped in the snow like a headless snake.
What do You think about Shut The Fuck Up And Die!?
