The Book of Counted Sorrows by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online Page B

found, no roof shingle or bent rusty nail, not one shattered teacup or one dented soup pot, not one severed finger or mangled foot belonging to a resident, not one pile of steaming guts or even one freestanding kidney. Ennui Plains had simply vanished. Some scientists speculate that the town spun away into a time vortex, while others suspect that it came into contact with an anti-matter Ennui Plains and was swiveled into an alternate universe; theologians, however, believe that God used Ennui Plains as a cosmic Kleenex, filling it with a great wad of divine snot and tossing it away into deep space. Any of these explanations might be correct, although the truth is most likely stranger still.
                       In any event, I have not been able to trace Miss Scuttlesby, the big-band heiress, from that fateful moment. Perhaps she disappeared along with Ennui Plains. If she left on vacation just prior to the catastrophe, I've no way to discover her whereabouts, for any of her neighbors or friends who may have had knowledge of her travel plans have themselves vanished into a void.
                       Where was I?
                       Who am I?
                       From whence come I?
                       Wither do I go?
                       Wherefore art my thumbs?
                       Is there balm in Gilead?
                       Where is Gilead?
                       What is balm?
                       How much does it cost?
                       Has it been approved for sale by the FDA?
                       Is it available in a cheaper generic form?
                       Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
                       Who shot Liberty Valance?
                       Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?
                       Who's who?
                       What's what?
                       How's that?
                       Why did the chicken cross the road?
                       Or did the egg cross it first?
                       Where did the egg go when it got to the other side?
                       Do you want fries with that?
                       Do you think this mole looks funny?
                       I mean, not funny-ha-ha, but funny as in funny-creepy?
                       Why do fools fall in love?
                       Why ask why?
                       Why not ask why?
                       Who are you to tell me what to ask and not ask?
                       Where do you get off ?
                       For that matter, where do you get on?
                       Does that feel good?
                       What about this?
                       Hmmmmm?
                       And this?
                       Do you want to find a motel?
                       In a real dark night of the soul, is it always three o'clock in the morning?
                       Or sometimes is it more like 2:45?
                       What time is it?
                       What is time, anyway?
                       Is time a dimension or a force, or entirely an illusion?
                       Does my Wristwatch serve any important purpose other than to reinforce a delusion that time matters?
                       What time are we leaving?
                       Wither do I go?
                       From whence come