The Pigman's Legacy (The Sequel to The Pigman) Read Online Free PDF Page A

conclusion that his whole cranky attitude is just a defense mechanism.”
    “Who cares?” I said bluntly. Though somewhere deep inside me I knew that I really did care. I cared about the look of genuine fear on the old bum's face when he thought we were from the Internal Revenue Service. There was something very terrible that anyone that old would have to look that frightened in our society, although I didn't know why a bum would fear the IRS.
    “In this magazine,” Lorraine went on, “it says that elderly people sometimes only look cantankerous on the surface just so people won't like them. But they really do want people to like them. They're just afraid they're not going to be accepted, and being mean is a sign they're pleading for love.”
    “Maybe the geezer just doesn't like kids.”
    “You're just projecting,” Lorraine corrected me. “You think nobody likes kids.”
    Somehow the truth of what was gnawing at me came slowly through. “Lorraine, you know as well as I do, that old man was planted there by Fate, just to punish us. He's a reminder of all the things we've done wrong. That's what he is.”
    “We didn't do anything wrong,” Lorraine protested.
    “I don't think that you or I believe that,” I told her. “We never talk about it, but we should. Seeing that old bum in that house has made me feel sick to my stomach all night.”
    “That's just your guilt.”
    “Ha,” I laughed. “Either that or the Old Lady's pork chops. And if you're not freaked out, then what are you calling me at this hour for?”
    “John,” Lorraine said solemnly. “ We have to go back there .”
    “Oh no we don't.”
    “Please,” Lorraine purred. “Please! I feel something is wrong. There must be some reason that old man picked out that house to hole up in. I don't know how to say it, but I think we're being given another chance. I think dead people work it that way. People die on you and then they send out vibes that give you another chance to make things better. I feel we're being given that chance.”
    Well, just let me say here and now that when Lorraine Jensen purrs at you and says “please” more than once, you know you've been purred at. I know from experience it's just easier to say, “Okay, Lorraine, whatever you say,” even though I know at the end of whatever terrible thing happens, she'll end up blaming me for the whole thing.
    The next day was Saturday. We had no school and were able to meet good and early at the corner of Eddy Street and Victory Boulevard. This time I wasn't so careful about what I was smoking, and Lorraine could tell right off it wasn't a spinach special.
    “John, you promised to smoke the vegetable brand.”
    “I'm sorry,” I said. “It's just too early to smoke spinach. If this was a good filter-tipped broccoli, maybe I could take it.” Lorraine just gave me an infuriated look, and we started walking. The one thing I was not about to admit to her was that deep in my heart of hearts, I wanted to go back to that house as much as she did. I had thought about it all night. There was something strange about that old guy, the way he thought we'd been sent to check up on him. Maybe I had been upset because I'd gotten too sentimental. He was probably nothing more than an old convict who had broken out of some jail someplace and mentioned the IRS to fake us out. He looked like one of the old aunts out of Arsenic and Old Lace . And I remembered those sweet old ladies used to run around giving arsenic to save people from the loneliness of life and then bury them in their cellar. But no matter what, I couldn't very well let Lorraine go over there by herself. It could be dangerous. He could be the most wanted senior citizen in the country. And who knew, maybe there was a reward. And if there was a reward, I knew Lorraine would want to split it with me.
    “I think we should bring something with us,” Lorraine instructed.
    “How about a war-surplus can of knockout gas?” I