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"
You
boiled
my
mother
!
"
The
front
door
was
still
open
.
And
then
I
was
out
the
front
door
with
Marla
screaming
in
the
doorway
behind
me
.
My
feet
did
n't
slip
against
the
concrete
sidewalk
,
and
I
just
kept
running
.
Until
I
found
Tyler
or
until
Tyler
found
me
,
and
I
told
him
what
happened
.
With
one
beer
each
,
Tyler
and
I
spread
out
on
the
front
and
back
seats
with
me
in
the
front
seat
.
Even
now
,
Marla
's
probably
still
in
the
house
,
throwing
magazines
against
the
walls
and
screaming
how
I
'm
a
prick
and
a
monster
twofaced
capitalist
suck-ass
bastard
.
The
miles
of
night
between
Marla
and
me
offer
insects
and
melanomas
and
flesh-eating
viruses
.
Where
I
'm
at
is
n't
so
bad
.
"
When
a
man
is
hit
by
lightning
,
"
Tyler
says
,
"
his
head
burns
down
to
a
smoldering
baseball
and
his
zipper
welds
itself
shut
.
"
I
say
,
did
we
hit
bottom
,
tonight
?
Tyler
lies
back
and
asks
,
"
If
Marilyn
Monroe
was
alive
right
now
,
what
would
she
be
doing
?
"
I
say
,
goodnight
.
The
headliner
hangs
down
in
shreds
from
the
ceiling
,
and
Tyler
says
,
"
Clawing
at
the
lid
of
her
coffin
.
"
MY
BOSS
STANDS
too
close
to
my
desk
with
his
little
smile
,
his
lips
together
and
stretched
thin
,
his
crotch
at
my
elbow
.
I
look
up
from
writing
the
cover
letter
for
a
recall
campaign
.
These
letters
always
begin
the
same
way
:
