A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World

A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World by Rachel Cantor Read Free Book Online

Book: A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World by Rachel Cantor Read Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Cantor
anywhere, really.
    For five years, Leonard did little or nothing but follow the doings of Sue & Susheela, let Medusa in and out of the garage apartment, and care for Felix. Till Carol told him he had to get a job.
    Like all of his grandfather’s stories, the one that went with the clapping song didn’t make much sense—his grandfather had learned it from his grandfather, who’d learned it from his grandfather (and so on), so maybe that was to be expected. But it was about demons (who cause havoc only on Mondays), so Felix pronounced it truly grand. His favorite was Kafkaphony, the demon with two wives: with one wife, he had leper babies; with the other, two-headed babies who fought each other and had open sores on their faces. He also liked Kafsephony, whose babies leapt from one end of the ether to the other, sometimes appearing as men and telling the future. Also, he liked the fact that dogs were formed in the ether out of bad deeds; they barked and howled, and bit people; they could find no cure for their condition till they died and were reborn as something else. He couldn’t wait to draw the goats who look like people. And so on.
    Can I really not tell Mom? Felix asked. His cheeks were still pink from the exertion of hopping skipping jumping west south north east around the invisible circle.
    Grandpa made me promise, Leonard said. No one can know, just you and me.
    Felix considered this a moment, twirling a lock of his red afro.
    What if I add the demons to my opus?
    They have to stay between us. You can show your grandson. He’s the only person who can see it.
    Will I have a grandson? he asked.
    Of course, Leonard said.
    You don’t, Felix said.
    You’re better than I am.
    I am?
    Of course you are! Look at you! Leonard said. You’re strong! You do awesome karate kicks. You have an opus!
    I do, don’t I?
    And you’ve got red hair, Leonard said. Girls love red hair.
    They don’t seem to, Felix said. He was thinking of Celeste, whose idea it had been most recently to dump him on the municipal compost heap.
    Trust me, Leonard said, and Felix did.
A pleasing style
    Good news! Milione said one night, his voice again bright. A gentleman has arrived who wishes to transcribe my adventures. He remembers me from Acre, he has a pleasing style. A certain Rustichello of Pisa—perhaps he lives near you?
    I don’t think so, Leonard said.
    Have you encountered his romances?
    Not my cuppa tea.
    He writes in French, Mill said. I gather this is the language for romance.
    I wouldn’t know, Leonard said.
    I neither, Mill said. But he proposes to make me famous beyond the walls of this shit-piss town. They will have to release me then, don’t you think? Really, I believe I shall go mad here.
    Leonard couldn’t argue with that. But he didn’t think Mill’s “memoirs” would help him out of his loony bin; they might occupy him, however, and stave off what seemed a deepening depression.
    What will you write about? Leonard asked. I’d say no to the dates and silks, yes to the starving caliph and marauding khan.
    I shall talk of the Tibetans! Mill said triumphantly, and the line, predictably, went dead.
The Desert of Lop
    Do you ever feel you are the only person in the universe? Mill asked the next night. When the moon disappears, and the sky is black and the sea is still and there is nothing around you but the void, then, dear Leonard, do you sometimes feel alone?
    I guess I felt like that when my grandfather died. Carol was glad. She was tired of taking care of him. I was fifteen. I felt alone then.
    An orphan is always alone. I was an orphan for fifteen years.
    So you said, Leonard said, thinking, You were never an orphan, you know nothing about being an orphan.
    There is a desert of which I have oft tried to speak, Mill said.
    The Desert of Lop, Leonard said, surprised that their connection wasn’t severed.
    Yes, that place. I was lost there, did I tell

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