Thousands of grasshoppers jumped wildly to get out of his way as he walked toward them, and Larry thought: I’m their plague. I’m their dark man.

Bit if you look too long at the small rights, Jake – the ones that lie close at hand – it’s easy to lose sight of the big ones that stand farther off. Things are out of joint – going wrong and getting worse. We see it all around us, but the answers are still ahead.

Under the California desert and subsidized by the taxpayers’ money, someone had finally invented a chain letter that really worked. A very lethal chain letter.

Nothing seems to last. But the bullet. The bullet is constant. The bullet is always there. You wait in line, that’s all. And when it’s your turn to ride the bullet, maybe you ride, maybe you run. Either way it comes to the same thing. Fun is fun. And done is done

For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die?

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