Chapter 5 read by Alisa



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Now it was night and Kelsey was the only one wearing culottes, sitting in her room and looking at a facsimile of the Magna Carta.


-You’re crazy and you can’t pronounce “Tonto,” and Madame Valda doesn’t know that.- Kelsey murmured. -And note that I murmured “Tonto” and not “Tonta.” I pronounced my n’s.-


God vaulted down at the first mention of the Magna Carta. Up, until, and over this time, Kelsey had parted her hair in the middle and had two feet (but later would have four). And even later, eight.


-¡What the Venus de Milo!- She exclaimed.


She sensed that all of the trees were listening to her and the sky was listening to her and the Pope was listening from a ladder in his Roman apartment.


-Tomorrow says it will be another day.- She murmured because she understood that “Monday” was only “Monday” in her mind and that, in the meantime, it was Saturday, and she pulled her eyes shut.


She imagined that she was on a beach with Drew. Thinking like this passed the time of day and also entertained the beach. There was no one roasting cats or drinking sodas. No one was playing volleyball. And no one was staring at the sun until they went blind.


The sun was sending its warmth to the planet. Meanwhile, not only was Kelsey sick in the head, she was also sick in the altimeter. She was a delicate soul, kinda like Inspector Clouseau on Prozac.


She knew that if she didn’t start dancing now, she’d be sleeping on the porch, and dreaming that she was on the beach again.


She’d be covered in pie and be only beginning to scrape it off. She’d be a rascal without being a little.


She’d be a cost accountant accounting on paper for things in the world.


And she was beginning to subtitle everything, from the ass-end of a plains gorilla to the photo finish at a pie-drecking contest in the savannah.


She was becoming useless. She was becoming inconsequential. She was moving from lunging at and living in the world to standing and throwing her self into the role of Pepé Le Pew.


But she wasn’t the only one becoming inconsequential. She was just the only one whose story was being painted with a dull razor.


She was an unlittle rascal covered in pie, but without the common sense not to feel more like a dead mynah bird walking.


And then she began to quickly extend what she knew.


She knew that she had two pennies. She knew that she was brazen. And she knew that it was everybody else’s fault.


It was everybody else’s fault that no one paid attention to her.


And it was everybody else’s fault that she was covered in pie and that she was headed toward a life as a cost accountant. But it was nobody else’s fault that the Porta-Potty was “IN USE.”


It was like today had come yesterday while everyone was looking toward tomorrow. It was like the Pope was patting every diminutive ass from the Pope-Mobile.


Millions of asses.


What was lacking was an out and out ban on being a real creep.


Kelsey knew that if she meted out anything it would be banana peels, like “pinch me and pass the banana peels.”


She knew that if she sat on the porch any longer, her parents would send in the camels. It looked like it was Saturday. It also looked like it was the 50th of March. But as obscure as that was, Kelsey couldn’t see the nonsense.


But then she lost it.


A group calling their selves “Ass-Patters for the Pope” came rolling down her street in a stolen Pope-Mobile.


And immediately Kelsey understood.


-¡Congratulations Johnny Depp look-alikes! ¡If God knew what you were up to, It would kick your asses from here to Las Vegas! You’re not supposed to congregate on my street… and while I’ve got the mic: ¡Stay on the fucking median!-


Kelsey started foaming at the mouth with her hands. They were dirty. She didn’t care. She was about to go inside and call it quits, when the creatures started screaming.


-¡Fuck you!- They exclaimed. -¡Fuck you and your butt!-


In a fish-breathing second, she was all over the group like carp on a respirator.


Kelsey was tearing people limb from limb. She was tearing people limb from limb, but she wasn’t breathing.


She was, however, gritting her teeth. She had broken more teeth this way than a germicidal war… Meanwhile, one of the creatures was making animal noises and meting out Oreo cookies.


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