Monday, August 8, 2011

Scribbledehobbledehoyden: The Magpie's Eye: Page 153


My instinct tells me not.  What?  Okay . . . what did he do?  So now we've got a [something] minute of justice.  I know it's early, I'm sorry.  I'll get more.  Is that your sister?  Yeah, she went off.  I really need to ask your mom some questions about your dad.  What about your sister?  I have to ask about everything.  He hit her.  He cried.  Touch her in any other way?  How should I know stuff like that?  Can I take that [something]?  Can I use the bathroom?  It's down on the right.
These young...  Nice smile.  Aww, little fella, [something], thank you.  Come on.  I'm sorry.  I'm sure that's some kind of serious antidepressant.  I suppose so.  One of the women -- yes, alright.  I feel there's a market for virgins.  Do you recognize any of these faces?  You see this man?  Couple of times.  Keep me out of this.  Please, I have a young daughter.  Brought the girls in from wherever.  You see her?  You don't think so?  Maybe.  A lot of them were foreign.  How short?  Thirteen.  She burned herself to death in front of me.
There was another man.  He was evil.  I will look after you, I promise.  I don't know her.
No one can.

Every now and then you have to take a steady look at what's going into your mind.  I was listening to something on TV and I wrote down the dialog as fast as I could, missing about half of it.  The resulting combo of banality and menace sounds a lot like a radio broadcast from Hell, doesn't it?


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