"I CAN SEE THAT JODIE FOSTER IS HOLDING IN ONE HAND A LEASH, PASCAL SAID. "BUT WHAT IS IT SHE IS CARRYING IN THE OTHER HAND?" I BROUGHT THE MAGAZINE CLOSE TO MY FACE AND STUDIED IT A MOMENT. "WELL," I SAID, "SHE APPEARS TO BE CARRYING A PLASTIC BAG OF DOG SHIT."
WOOBY
"HIT ME," MY MOM SAID ON ONE OF MY RETURN VISITS HOME FROM CHICAGO. "NO WAIT, LET ME GO GET MY CAMERA." SHE LEFT THE ROOM AND RETURNED A FEW MOMENTS LATER. "OKAY, NOW U CAN HIT ME. BETTER YET, WHY DON'T U JUST PRETEND TO HIT ME." I RAISED MY HAND, AND MY MOM CRIED OUT IN PAIN. "OW!" SHE YELLED. "SOMEBODY HELP ME." I CAUGHT AN ADVANCING BLUR MOVING IN FROM THE LEFT, AND THE NEXT THING I KNEW I WAS KNOCKED DOWN ON THE GROUND, THE DOG RIPPING HOLES IN MY SWEATER. THE CAMERA FLASHED AND MY MOM SCREAMED WITH DELIGHT. "GOD, I LOVE THAT TRICK."
MY BITTY