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He
was
the
one
,
however
,
with
whom
no
one
wanted
his
or
her
picture
taken
,
the
one
to
whom
no
one
wanted
to
introduce
his
son
or
daughter
.
Louis
and
Gage
knew
him
;
they
had
met
him
and
faced
him
down
in
New
England
,
some
time
ago
.
He
was
waiting
to
choke
you
on
a
marble
,
to
smother
you
with
a
dry-cleaning
bag
,
to
sizzle
you
into
eternity
with
a
fast
and
lethal
boggie
of
electricity
--
Available
at
Your
Nearest
Switchplate
or
Vacant
Light
Socket
Right
Now
.
There
was
death
in
a
quarter
bag
of
peanuts
,
an
aspirated
piece
of
steak
,
the
next
pack
of
cigarettes
.
He
was
around
all
the
time
,
he
monitored
all
the
checkpoints
between
the
mortal
and
the
eternal
.
Dirty
needles
,
poison
beetles
,
downed
live
wires
,
forest
fires
.
Whirling
roller
skates
that
shot
nurdy
little
kids
into
busy
intersections
.
When
you
got
into
the
bathtub
to
take
a
shower
,
Oz
got
right
in
there
too
--
Shower
with
a
Friend
.
When
you
got
on
an
airplane
,
Oz
took
your
boarding
pass
.
He
was
in
the
water
you
drank
,
the
food
you
ate
.
Who
's
out
there
?
you
howled
into
the
dark
when
you
were
frightened
and
all
alone
,
and
it
was
his
answer
that
came
back
:
Do
n't
be
afraid
,
it
's
just
me
.
Hi
,
howaya
?
You
got
cancer
of
the
bowel
,
what
a
bummer
,
so
solly
,
Cholly
!
Septicemia
!
Leukemia
!
Atherosclerosis
!
Coronary
thrombosis
!
Encephalitis
!
Osteomyelitis
!
Hey-ho
,
let
's
go
!
Junkie
in
a
doorway
with
a
knife
.
Phone
call
in
the
middle
of
the
night
.
Blood
cooking
in
battery
acid
on
some
exit
ramp
in
North
Carolina
.
Big
handfuls
of
pills
,
munch
em
up
.
That
peculiar
blue
cast
of
the
fingernails
following
asphyxiation
--
in
its
final
grim
struggle
to
survive
the
brain
takes
all
the
oxygen
that
is
left
,
even
that
in
those
living
cells
under
the
nails
.
Hi
,
folks
,
my
name
's
Oz
the
Gweat
and
Tewwible
,
but
you
can
call
me
Oz
if
you
want
--
hell
,
we
're
old
friends
by
now
.
Just
stopped
by
to
whop
you
with
a
little
congestive
heart
failure
or
a
cranial
blood
clot
or
something
;
ca
n't
stay
,
got
to
see
a
woman
about
a
breach
birth
,
then
I
've
got
a
little
smoke-inhalation
job
to
do
in
Omaha
.
And
that
thin
voice
is
crying
,
"
I
love
you
,
Tigger
!
I
love
you
!
I
believe
in
you
,
Tigger
!
I
will
always
love
you
and
believe
in
you
,
and
I
will
stay
young
,
and
the
only
Oz
to
ever
live
in
my
heart
will
be
that
gentle
faker
from
Nebraska
!
I
love
you
...
"
We
cruise
...
my
son
and
I.
.
.
because
the
essence
of
it
is
n't
war
or
sex
but
only
that
sickening
,
noble
,
hopeless
battle
against
Oz
the
Gweat
and
Tewwible
.
He
and
I
,
in
our
white
van
under
this
bright
Florida
sky
,
we
cruise
.
And
the
red
flasher
is
hooded
,
but
it
is
there
if
we
need
it
...
and
none
need
know
but
us
because
the
soil
of
a
man
's
heart
is
stonier
;
a
man
grows
what
he
can
...
and
tends
it
.
Thinking
such
troubled
half-dreaming
thoughts
,
Louis
Creed
slipped
away
,
unplugging
his
connections
to
waking
reality
line
by
line
,
until
all
thoughts
ceased
and
exhaustion
dragged
him
down
to
black
dreamless
unconsciousness
Just
before
the
first
signs
of
dawn
touched
the
sky
in
the
east
,
there
were
footsteps
on
the
stairs
.
They
were
slow
and
clumsy
but
purposeful
.
A
shadow
moved
in
the
shadows
of
the
hall
.
A
smell
came
with
it
--
a
stench
.
Louis
,
even
in
his
thick
sleep
,
muttered
and
turned
away
from
that
smell
.
There
was
the
steady
pull
and
release
of
respiration
.
The
shape
stood
outside
the
master
bedroom
door
for
some
little
time
,
not
moving
.
Then
it
came
inside
.
Louis
's
face
was
buried
in
his
pillow
.
White
hands
reached
out
,
and
there
was
a
click
as
the
black
doctor
's
bag
by
the
bed
was
opened
.
A
low
clink
and
shift
as
the
things
inside
were
moved
.
The
hands
explored
,
pushing
aside
drugs
and
ampules
and
syringes
with
no
interest
at
all
.
Now
they
found
something
and
held
it
up
.
In
the
first
dim
light
there
was
a
gleam
of
silver
.
The
shadowy
thing
left
the
room
.
