Buku Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

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Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

Author:Stephen Graham Jones

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Flushboy

ISBN: 9781938604188

Publisher: Dzanc Books

Published: 2013-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

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Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

There are things so far

beyond belief that it

ought to be possible to

 

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Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

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Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

 

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Flushboy by Stephen Graham Jones

Author:Stephen Graham Jones , Date: June 24, 2019

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Author:Stephen Graham Jones

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: Flushboy

ISBN: 9781938604188

Publisher: Dzanc Books

Published: 2013-06-23T16:00:00+00:00
There are things so far

beyond belief that it

ought to be possible to

wake from them.

—DM Thomas

PART THREE

Leaktakers & Heartbreakers

25.

My dad could have had any number of other passions. He could have been into football and sacrificed me to his precious gods every Friday night. It would have made for some good Sunday afternoons. Him letting me hold iced-down beers to my knees so I’d be ready for practice on Monday.

Or fishing. If he was into fishing, we could have all the goofy hats and gear, and disappear every Friday with a cooler, and take pictures of each other holding fish after fish. These would be pictures I could show my kids in twenty years.

Or even cars. Then I could have a restored Mustang like Tommy Selznak, whose dad went so car-crazy that he only does his CPA stuff part-time now. The rest of the time he’s out in his new shop, the click of a ratchet filling all the empty space, some bad old music coming from a shelf nobody can ever find.

I’d pay for that music.

Or he could just be like the rest of the dads: no dreams at all anymore. Just resigned pretty much, a look in their eyes like they’re waiting things out here, and a sneaky smile that they remember being like you, sure. But wait a few years, kid.

You don’t want to get trapped in a living room situation with those dads, no, but they tend to be pretty forgiving, too.

I don’t know.

I’m just trying to come to terms with the warm urine beading on my upper lip, I suppose.

At least the world’s finally quiet enough for me to think.

Thanks to Mark for that.

As for the John that was in my hand, it’s gone—a water balloon lobbed into a rosebush.

My fingers are numb like you’d expect, but there’s a cartoon feel to it all. Like I’ve still got the exact same posture. All that’s changed is that I’ve been drawn in my exploded state now, though my hairnet’s keeping my hair from spiking in the proper manner.

The pee misting through the air more than makes up for that.

Again, it’s like I’m being given the chance to go back to the men’s restroom of that Bantams game, save everybody from the poison urinal cake. Start over.

But I’m probably just trying not to be here, I’d guess. Not now and not for two more years. Twenty-four months. A pale yellow sea of days.

Will I still see Prudence in the halls?

Can I even ever go back to school again?

I can wash the pee out of my hair, but not out of everybody else’s head.

Outside the second window, a girl from my grade’s leaned up out of her mother’s BMW. She’s knocking on the window. With her fist, not a Jane. Like she’s trying to save me.

I smile, shake my head no. Thanks, but no.

It’s already too late.

According to my mom, who explained it to me in secrecy a long time ago, years before I was ready, the thing with

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