No Small Bills Page 27

  Yeah, Mary and me.

  No, I’m not going into details.

  Yes, she really is all-natural.

  That’s all I’m sayin’.

  Most of the time, of course, I’m here on my own. But that’s okay. Like I said, I’ve got the run of the main room and a few of the nearby alcoves. I’ve set up a pool table in one, and a dartboard. I’ve got a Jacuzzi in that locker room place we were held in first. There’s a wet bar in a nook off to one side.

  In case you’re wondering, I got my mail forwarded. That took a little doing, but Tall smoothed things over for me. Arranged it all with my old job, too. And told my mom I’d been tapped on a matter of national security, so I couldn’t come visit but I could call and email.

  But yes, I got my mail.

  Including all those credit cards.

  I’ve got about twelve different game systems, though some of them I can’t play too well because I don’t have the right number of limbs. Or sensory organs. I’ve got a gazillion different games. I’ve got books, and movies, and the Internet. I’ve got an entire stadium-sized space to run around in.

  Of course, sometimes I still feel the need to cut loose a little bit. Go off on my own, even if it’s just for a smoke break. No, I didn’t ever smoke before—always thought it was an ugly habit. But then I discovered these jewel-light sticks from Bennoit 6. They’re amazing! Make you feel like your entire body is made of clouds and vapor and fine, faintly lilac-scented mist! Good stuff. Mary doesn’t approve, says she doesn’t know how it’ll react to my modified body chemistry, and she’s gotten Ned and Tall to side with her, so I can’t smoke them anywhere around any of them, or even in the skull.

  So I sneak out from time to time.

  Turns out, you can take a metal guitar string and run it between the leads in the helmet. Works like a charm. Strictly short-term, of course, but there haven’t been any problems so far.

  At least I don’t think so. I haven’t seen any more invaders, anyway.

  But the other day?

  I thought I saw a shape moving toward the door, just out of the corner of my eye.

  It was mauve, though, so I can’t be sure.

  Oh well. I’m sure it was nothing.

  Gotta go. One of my shows is on. It’s a triple-daytime talk show from Deceter Epsilon. The host drills each visitor on their problems—literally. The show’s slogan is “sometimes you’ve got to dig past the surface to find the root of the problem.”

  It can get a bit messy, but at least it’s all in good fun.

  I think.

  The End