Year Zero Read Online Free PDF Page B

crap,” Pugwash yelped, pulling back reflexively.
    The parrot saw this and jumped right onto his shoulder. “Swab the mizzen-mast!” it commanded in a thick Scottish accent. “Scurvy me sextant! All hands to the Lido deck!” Clearly this one had been liberated from a marauding corsair, instead of an eco-boosting reëducation camp. Pugwash tried to slide away, but the parrot held on tight. So he brushed frantically at his shoulder. This irked the bird, who grudgingly hopped over to the back of the
empty chair that he’d just evicted the cockatoo from. “Tree-lubber,” it snorted.
    “So … you were about to tell me how business is going,” I said.
    The parrot cocked an ear and struck an attentive pose.
    “Business? It’s awesome!” This conveyed zero information, since Pugwash would claim it from the very throes of bankruptcy. That said, business does tend to go rather awesomely for him. He graduated college three years before me, with so-so grades from a no-name school (smart as he is, he’s even more lazy). He moved back into his parents’ home with no discernible prospects. But just as he was starting to delight his sibling rivals by amounting
to nothing, a Magoo-like stroke of random fortune swept him into a job at Google. It was 1999, and the company had about thirty employees.Within a few quick years it had over ten thousand. This happened through absolutely no fault of Pugwash’s. But his stock options became outlandishly valuable as a result, and he’ll coast forevermore.
    “So how’d you score this table?” he demanded, clearly as close to being impressed with me as his constitution would allow. “Eatiary’s tougher to get into than the Waverly these days.”
    “How did … 
I
get this table?” Even as I said this, my spirits collapsed as I realized that my cousin hadn’t sent the chilling texts that had brought me here. He just saw that I was going to a hyperexclusive restaurant on Phluttr, and showed up to leach on to my reservation.
    “No, I’m talking to birdbrain here.” Pugwash jabbed a sarcastic finger at the chair next to him.
    The rowdy yellow parrot was still perched there—far enough back that my cousin couldn’t see his face. Apparently taking advantage of this privacy, the bird caught my eye, and winked conspiratorially. Entirely freaked out, I looked away, trying to write this off as a standard parrot trick, like saying hi or mimicking the ring of a telephone. I mean, all parrots can wink. Conspiratorially. In perfect sync with your conversation. Right?
    “By the way, you don’t have a
cold
, do you?” Pugwash instinctively cringed back in his chair—and he had good reason to be worried. Whenever any guy in our family got sick growing up, we’d all catch it within minutes. To this day, Pugwash and I can swap a cold back and forth just by passing through the same room.
    “Guilty as charged,” I confirmed. “You’ll be a sneezing wreck by midnight.” I chanced a second glance at the parrot. The little fucker gave me another wink.
    “Well, being a good cousin, I got you something other than a
disease
for your birthday.” Pugwash pulled an oddly shaped cigarette lighter from the pocket of his plush cashmere jacket. It was bulbous, almost spherical. “I picked it up last week, down in Pahra
khwai
.” It sounded like he was gargling with marmalade when he hit that last word.
    “Paraguay,” I corrected. An obsessive traveler, my cousin’s always zipping off on quick, pricey journeys. No place is too random for him. But
Paraguay
? He must be running out of countries to visit.
    “Yes. Pahra
khwai
,” he said, with an even harsher gargling sound. Pugwash can’t bear to mention any Latin American location without making some pathetic gringo stab at sounding native. He thinks it makes him sound worldly and liberal—like those NPR reporters who make pretentious gagging noises whenever they utter a faintly Hispanic name.
    “Well, thanks,” I said, looking at my