Side Effects: An FBI Psychological Thriller - Plot & Excerpts
I’d declined the hot dog and instead settled for an iced tea. Although now watching Morris cram nearly half of the hot dog into his mouth in one bite, I was beginning to crave one myself. Something about a hot dog outside at a sporting event; it was one of the few decent memories I had about my father. He would buy me one, I’d wolf it down to impress him, he’d palm the top of my head and shake it too hard (already on his fourth beer plus whatever he sipped from the flask in his jacket pocket) and ask me if I wanted another. I’d say yes even though I didn’t, and I’d wolf that one down too. He’d laugh proudly, palm my head too hard, and ask me if I wanted another. I’d say yes, of course, though my tiny stomach wanted anything but. I would somehow finish that third hot dog next to and below his looming gaze that held an odd mix of both pride for my appetite and a warning if I didn’t finish. Not long after, I would excuse myself to the bathroom and puke it all up. This happened three times if I recall correctly.
What do You think about Side Effects: An FBI Psychological Thriller?
