Practical Demonkeeping Read Online Free PDF Page B

sticker instead of his home. Again he chased down the buttons and pegged them one by one. It was like shooting skeet, you had to lead them a little.
    â€œHello.” Jenny sounded sleepy.
    â€œHoney, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. Can I come home?”
    â€œRobert? What time is it?”
    He thought for a moment then guessed, “Noon?”
    â€œIt’s five in the morning, Robert. I’ve been asleep about an hour,Robert. There were dogs barking in the neighborhood all night long, Robert. I’m not ready for this. Good-bye, Robert.”
    â€œBut Jenny, how could you do it? You don’t even like the desert. And you know how I hate saltines.”
    â€œYou’re drunk, Robert.”
    â€œWho is this guy, Jenny? What does he have that I don’t have?”
    â€œThere is no other guy. I told you yesterday, I just can’t live with you anymore. I don’t think I love you anymore.”
    â€œWho do you love? Who is he?”
    â€œMyself, Robert. I’m doing it for myself. Now I’m hanging up for myself. Say good-bye so I don’t feel like I’m hanging up on you.”
    â€œBut, Jenny—”
    â€œIt’s over. Get on with your life, Robert. I’m hanging up now. Good-bye.”
    â€œBut—” She hung up. “Nobody lives like this,” Robert said to the dial tone.
    Get on with your life . Okay, that’s a plan. He would clean up this place and clean up his life. Never drink again. Things were going to change. Soon she would remember what a great guy he was. But first he had to go to the bathroom to answer an emergency call from Ralph.
    Â 
    The smoke alarm was screaming like a tortured lamb. Robert, now back on the couch, pulled a cushion over his head and wondered why the Breeze didn’t have a sleeper button on his smoke alarm. Then the pounding started. It was a door buzzer, not the smoke alarm.
    â€œBreeze, answer the door!” Robert shouted into the cushion. The pounding continued. He crawled off the couch and waded through the litter to the door.
    â€œHold on a minute, man. I’m coming.” He threw the door open and caught the man outside with his fist poised for another pounding. He was a sharp-faced Hispanic in a raw silk suit. His hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail with a black silk ribbon. Robert could see a flagship model BMW parked in the driveway.
    â€œShit. Jehovah’s Witnesses must make a lot of money,” Robert said.
    The Hispanic was not amused. “I need to talk to The Breeze.”
    At that point Robert realized that he was naked and picked an empty, gallon wine bottle from the floor to cover his privates.
    â€œCome in,” Robert said, backing away from the door. “I’ll see if he’s awake.”
    The Hispanic stepped in. Robert stumbled down the narrow hall to The Breeze’s room. He knocked on the door. “Breeze, there’s some big money here to see you.” No answer. He opened the door and went in and searched through the piles of blankets, sheets, pillows, beer cans, and wine bottles, but found no Breeze.
    On the way back to the living room Robert grabbed a mildewed towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his hips. The Hispanic was standing in the middle of a small clearing, peering around the trailer with concentrated disgust. It looked to Robert as if he were trying to levitate to avoid having his Italian shoes contact the filth on the floor.
    â€œHe’s not here,” Robert said.
    â€œHow do you live like this?” the Hispanic said. He had no discernible accent. “This is subhuman, man.”
    â€œDid my mother send you?”
    The Hispanic ignored the question. “Where is The Breeze? We had a meeting this morning.” He put an extra emphasis on the word meeting . Robert got the message. The Breeze had been hinting that he had some big deal going down. The guy must be the buyer. Silk suits and BMWs were