THIS MAN CALLED LARIMOR
Having a pet six-gun, what! you
call that your bonafide hobby?
You ought have your neckbrace
'round your brain. Haven't we
talked all this out before - 'Misty,
come over here again. Listen to
this guy. I think he now claims
to work for the United Nations
but I don't believe a word. There's
a drawstring, isn't it that, around
his shoulders?' Yes, that day was
really something - there was all
that east-side traffic whizzing by
and this little island of repose,
supposedly, right in the thick
of it all. I was sitting there with
some kids. Kids just out from
United Nation High School. Yep.
They get their own, I guess for
diplomats' kids and all that. All
sort of international types, and
their languages. It was pretty
cool how they just hung around
except for this odd old guy who
was always sitting there - the kids
all knew him and went over to
him, without any qualms, but the
guy always bugged me; something
not right. Even me, I'd seen it
before with priests. This Father
Larimor guy once, too creepy for
words, and the Eucharist, ha!
gone to Hell. Why these kids
couldn't readily detect this guy
was beyond me; but I stayed
away. Yeah man, I kept
my distance.
No comments:
Post a Comment