Joe Pitt 5 - My Dead Body Read Online Free PDF Page A

nostalgic. It’s no better or worse than it was. Different whores, different johns. Some people get off on fucking, some get off on fast food. People can ruin themselves however they want, it’s not my business.
    But it is Chubby’s.
    He spreads his arms.
    --Adult film was for the aficionados in those days. Men who made an effort to seek it out. Or it was a right of passage. Boys with their collars turned up, trying to find out what their teachers were talking about in sex ed class. Looking to glimpse some tittie. Ass. A beaver shot. And getting so much more than they had imagined.
    He lowers his arms.
    --Now, entirely amateur. Not only do they all know what a rim job is by the time they’re eleven, but they’re considered uptight if they’ve not webcammed themselves giving and receiving one and posted it to their Facebook page.
    I’m sifting gravel through my fingers, thinking about buried things, against my will.
    --You were talking about your girl, Chubby. And how you found me.
    He pats Dallas’s shoulder and moves away from him.
    --I was, I was. Just illustrating a point about her mother. That, while she postdated the era of celluloid, she was nonetheless of a more civilized generation. And she raised our daughter well. My little girl is not one to be involved in sordid matters. Her predicament is an affair of the heart.
    A cracked jewel of green bottle glass lies in my palm. Same color green as a bottle of Cutty Sark. I think about a drink.
    --You want to tell me your girl’s no slut, just say so. You’re getting wordy in your old age, Chubby.
    He raises his eyebrows.
    --Joe, the way your boot bends when you squat, I’d say you’ve lost a toe. Your knee sounds like broken crockery when you walk. You have one eye.
    --Your point?
    He lowers his eyebrows.
    --You ain’t the motherfucker to be talkin’ as to how a man is or isn’t agin’ his best.
    I smile.
    --Ah, there’s the Chubby Freeze I know.
    He snorts and adjusts the knot of his tie.
    --Well, bid him farewell. That is the only appearance he will be making in this concern.
    I drop the bit of glass.
    --How you found me. That’s my concern.
    --Yes.
    He reaches inside his jacket and takes out a leather humidor.
    --While not of loose morals, my girl is adventurous. Romantic. Overly so. Not weepy about it, but a touch light-headed in her desire for something…poetic. And a child of her generation, she is also wired. She met a boy online; having chatted with him at length, she was not the type to balk at meeting him in person. In a public place, of course. She is no fool. And while that may not be the prologue one would expect for even the most modern interpretation of Romeo and Juliet, she did fall in love with him. The courtship, I gather, was brief. As is typical these days.
    He slips the top from the humidor, pulling it loose with a slight pop.
    --The boy.
    He takes the end of one of the cigars between his fingers and draws it free.
    --Was not.
    He studies the length of the cigar, inspecting it for tears.
    --He was not.
    Satisfied with the quality of the cigar, he offers the business end to Dallas, who bares his perfect teeth and nips away a tapered quarter inch.
    Chubby grunts, thumbs a bit of leaf from the end of the cigar.
    --The boy was not…typical.
    He offers me the humidor.
    --I don’t suppose?
    I shake my head and roll another cigarette.
    --Not my thing.
    He nods, caps the humidor and puts it back inside his jacket, his hand coming out with a silver lighter roughly the size and shape of a .12 gauge shell.
    --You’re missing out on a fine smoke.
    I light my own.
    --You were telling me the boy was infected.
    He ignites the lighter, holds the end of the intense blue flame just below the end of the cigar and gives a few puffs, rotating the cigar to bring it evenly to life.
    --Yes. That was the point I was driving at.
    --And she found out.
    He releases the button on the side of the lighter with a snap, the flame dies, and he wraps it in a