The litterbug picked the one on the right. The kid's out. Litterbug thought slowly that he had to find a way to get away before something really bad happened. He had to overcome the disadvantage of lack of transportation. Just then, the boy came back. The litterbug was surprised to find him pushing a wheelbarrow full of six bundles of beer. His doll eyes were bloodshot and red, his high hairstyle began to unravel like the spring of a broken clock, and his waxed hair hung over his face and ears, making him look like a dangerous primitive man who had picked up a leather jacket left behind by a time tunnel traveler and put it on. The hare's feet swung back and forth on the jacket. "Very warm," said the boy, "though there is a crack, am I right?" "Yes, exactly." Said the litterbug. "Have a beer, stupid," the boy said, throwing him a can. When the litterbug pulled the tab, poof, the foam sprayed all over his face, and the boy held his flat stomach in his hands and laughed strangely. The litterbug smiled weakly. He had made up his mind that later tonight he would slip away while the little monster was asleep. He's had enough. And what the boy said about the priest in black. Litterbugs are scared. To say something like that, even in jest, is like ****ting on the altar of a church, or begging for lightning to strike you in the middle of a storm. Worst of all, he didn't think the kid was joking. The Litterbug had no intention of going into the mountains with the man, the fanatical dwarf who drank all day (and all night, apparently),potassium sulphate fertilizer, the fanatic who said he would defeat the man in black and take his place. At the same time, the boy drank two cans of beer in two minutes, squashed the cans, and threw them carelessly on a double bed in the room. In his right hand, he held the.45-caliber pistol used to open the door lock, and in his left hand, he took out a can of Koss. "There's no ***ing electricity, no ***ing TV,Magnesium Oxide price," he said. The more he drank, the stronger his southern accent became, which made his words sound harsh: "It doesn't matter, it's better to be all rubbish.". But Jesus ***ing Christ, what about wrestling? What about the Playboy Channel? That's a good show, Litterbug. I mean, they never show men eating hair pies or munching on furry animals, you know what I mean, but there are a few ladies with their legs up on their chins, you know what the *** I'm talking about? "Of course." Said the litterbug. Damn it, don't talk nonsense, you listen. The boy stared at the TV set which looked like a decoration. **** As he spoke, he fired a shot at the TV, and the picture tube burst with a bang, Magnesium Nitrate Fertilizer ,Magnesium Sulphate producer, sending glass flying onto the carpet. The litterbug raised his arm to cover his eyes and spilled beer on the green carpet. "Oh look, you stupid pig!" Cried the boy, in a tone of insolent anger. Suddenly, he pointed the gun at the garbage bug, and the thick and black chamber of the gun was like the chimney of a cruise ship at sea. Litterbug felt his groin numb. He thought he must have wet his pants, but he couldn't say for sure. I won't forgive you, said the boy. "You spilled beer, and I wouldn't have done it if it was any other brand, but you spilled Koss, and I wish I could pee Koss. Do you believe this happy boast?" "Of course." Whispered the litterbug. Do you think they're going to make more Koses these days, Litterbug? You think it's ***ing possible, don't you? "No," whispered the litterbug, "I guess not." "Damn it, you're right." He raised the gun gently. Litterbug thought. It's over. His life is over. It must be. But the boy put down his gun again. Gently. There was a very blank expression on his face, and the litterbug thought it probably meant he was thinking. You listen, litterbug, you get another can of beer and gurgle it off. I won't send you to the Cadillac Ranch if you can gurgle the whole can of beer. Do you believe in this happy cowhide? "What is …" What is gurgling? Jesus Christ, boy, you're as dumb as a piece of wood! If you drink the whole can in one breath, it's gurgling! Where did you grow up? ***ing Africa? Be careful, Litterbug. If I had a bullet in my gun, it would have hit you in the right eye. Now that my gun is full of dumdum bullets, *** it, I'm gonna turn you into a buffet of ****roaches in the garbage. He raised the gun in his hand, staring at the litterbug with red eyes and a little beer foam on his upper lip. The litterbug went to the cardboard box, picked up a can of beer and patted the top of the can. Drink it and don't leave a drop. If you spit it out, you're a ***ing goose. The litterbug lifted the can and the beer gurgled out. He swallowed as hard as he could, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down like a monkey on a branch. When he finally finished the beer in the can, he let go and the can fell between his feet. It was a battle that never seemed to end. He won with his throat, and in a long, echoing burp, he won back his life. The boy turned his little head and laughed excitedly. The litterbug was top-heavy and grinned weakly. In an instant, he was not a little drunk, but very drunk. The kid put the pistol in the holster. Good, good, litterbug. You're not too ***ing shabby. The kid continued to drink, and the motel bed was full of beer cans. Litterbug put a can of Cox in his lap, and whenever the kid seemed to look at him disapprovingly, he picked it up and drank it. The kid kept muttering, his voice getting lower and lower and pausing more and more, which aggravated his southern accent. He talked about the places he'd been, the games he'd won. He used to drive a laundry truck across the border from Mexico to deliver narcotics. Dangerous drugs, he said. All narcotics are ***ing dangerous drugs, and he never touched them himself, but boy, after you've carted a couple of weed,caustic calcined magnesite, you can wipe your ass with gold toilet paper. At last he began to doze, his little red eyes closed longer and longer, and then he could barely open them. stargrace-magnesite.com
