No Lease on Life

Начало книги

Clip, clop, clip, clop — BANG.

Clip, clop, clip, clop — BANG BANG.

Clip, clop, clip, clop — BANG.

Clip, clop, clip, clop — BANG BANG.

What’s that?

I don’t know.

An Amish drive-by shooting.

They were just fucking around. They yelled and ran. They overturned all the garbage cans on her block. They were probably going to the park. They were methodical. They turned them over, one after another, and bellowed. They leaped around, up and down, and then one of them — four males and a female — threw a garbage can at a first-floor window. He missed. Then he and another guy aimed garbage cans at a car, which they hit. Any moron can hit a car with a garbage can.

Car alarms went off. No one could sleep. Windows opened wide. People hung out their windows. Their mouths hung open too. It was pathetic.

Elizabeth was looking out her window.

Everyone was asleep and in messed-up T-shirts or ratty robes, tied strangely at the waist. They all looked strangled. It was the middle of the night or the morning. It was hot. Only people with their air conditioners on ever slept through the night. That’s how the block divided in the summer, with A/C or without. It was pathetic.

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