Revoltingly Young Read Online Free PDF Page B

any paint stores. I pointed out that such trespass constitutes an illegal burglary.
    “ Aw, nobody’s gonna ’rrest my ass ’cause I swiped a few cans of paint,” he shrugged.
    “ And how many have you stolen?” I inquired.
    Carlyle gave it some thought. “’Bout 600 so far, but a lot of them turned out to be empty or dried up or some useless color like pink.”
    7:38 p.m. Another dateless Saturday night. My 754 th in a row (or thereabouts). The good news is that 754 Saturdays from now I’ll be 29, married (to Uma?), and by then will have had several thousand vigorous bouts of intercourse under my belt. That thought sustains me.
    Speaking of wanton sex, there’s been another emergency wedding. Two ancient fossils got wheeled into the Dixie Belle from a local old folks home. A shift supervisor found them in bed together this morning, and the prim management insisted they get married or get out. Since they couldn’t afford the latter, in they came. Though they looked about 214 to me, it turned out that he was 89 and she was 93. That’s like me marrying some college sophomore! (Not a bad idea. Where do I sign up?) They got through the ceremony OK, though afterwards the bride dribbled quite a bit of her lemonade. They are honeymooning tonight back at the home, while I–young, virile, and primed for action–have only my computer for company.
    I have sent an email to my brother Nick in Las Vegas demanding a complete accounting of my origins. This uncertainty is intolerable. I need to know who I am!
     
    SUNDAY, July 3 – Another wretched night. Damn. My new policy is no beverages after 12 noon, except for cocktails with Uma. (I wish.)
    This working for a living really sucks. I was supposed to go swimming with Stoney, but Toby got called in for more lousy adore ceremonies and a wedding or two. No paycheck in sight yet. I’m operating entirely on wallet fumes. Stoney is bummed because she’s stuck on Tyler, but knows he’s seeing his multiple L.A. girlfriends. She says guys are nothing but trouble and wishes she could go back to being a horny dyke. I said that’s not very likely now that she’s let the genie out of the bottle. She should just go with it, I added, and work to get in touch with her feminine side. She replied that my big fat mouth was working to get in touch with her knuckles.
    7:45 p.m. New developments this afternoon. When their 3:30 reservation didn’t show, Mr. Dugan sent Toby over to the Silver Sluice casino to bang on the missing couple’s hotel door. While attempting an inconspicuous crossing of the lobby, who should I spy but my very own (I wish) Uma. Looking wildly attractive in a green Silver Sluice employee polo shirt, she was manning a kiosk that sold gum, candy, sunglasses and other casino necessities. I edged over to ogle the breath-mints display.
    “ I wouldn’t try anything,” she noted. “There are security cameras everywhere.”
    “ Thanks for the warning,” I replied, my heart pounding. “Are these breath mints fresh?”
    “ Of course. They’re loaded with preservatives.”
    Uma rested her lovely chin on her lovely hand and studied me with interest. In this posture, I couldn’t help but notice, her lovely breasts nestled sweetly on the counter.
    “ Any particular brand you recommend?” I asked.
    “ What is the nature of your problem?”
    “ Uh, what do you mean?”
    “ How bad is your breath?”
    “ That’s a rather personal question.”
    Toby, I noticed, was much better at talking to Uma than I had ever been.
    “ I suppose, but you brought up the subject. Did that jacket shrink?”
    “ Yes, dreadfully. I fell into the Amazon–off a speeding river boat.”
    “ Not wash and wear, huh?”
    “ Uh, no.”
    Toby selected a roll of mints and placed it on the counter, causing Uma to rise languidly and pass the mints under a scanner.
    “ That will be $1.59.”
    “ That much, huh?” Toby removed his wallet and looking into it doubtfully. His skepticism was well