It made me understand the whole mount-your-kill’s-head-on-a-wall-plaque theory of design. Antlers and the like. Hardest part: finding a cab that would take us downtown. A bus seemed too exposed. The train out of the question. A lumbering slow learner, a small kid with a freshly bandaged ear and bloodstain remnants on his face, a huge stuffed bird, and Alabama, who defied categorization. Four cabs sailed past us down Second, their roof lights arrogantly lit. “They’re not even pretending to be off duty,” said Hob, “that is blatant racism.” “Against the race of jackasses,” said Alabama. One stopped. The driver leaned out and asked, “Where you go?” He talked the whole ride about his brother in Tbilisi, whom he said was the most famous bass guitarist in Georgia. We carried the owl across our laps. The bucket holding the base of tree branch stuck out one window. We set her up in the back of the basement, near the couch where Alabama sat to play the violin.
What do You think about The War Against The Assholes?
