Is this the baby?" I said.
Ma turned on me again.
"What do you think it is?" she said. "A midget that can't talk?
Every step was a victory. He had to remember that.
George SaundersTags: victory perseverance
He was a father. That’s what a father does.
Eases the burdens of those he loves.
Saves the ones he loves from painful last images that might endure for a lifetime.
Tags: love fatherhood
I have plenty of friends," she says.
"Name one."
She looks at me.
Which I guess is sort of sweet.
Tags: friendship
You were torturing a cat," she says. "With a freaking prod."
"A prod I built myself in metal shop," he says. "But of course you never mention that.
Tags: humor animal-cruelty absurd
Sweet Evelyn, I think, I should have loved you better.
Possessing perfect knowledge I hover above him as he hacks me to bits. I see his rough childhood. I see his mother doing something horrid to him with a broomstick. I see the hate in his heart and the people he had yet to kill before pneumonia gets him at eighty-three. I see the dead kid's mom unable to sleep, pounding her fists against her face in grief at the moment I was burying her son's hand. I see the pain I've caused. I see the man I could have been, and the man I was, and then everything is bright and new and keen with love and I sweep through Sam's body, trying to change him, trying so hard, and feeling only hate and hate, solid as stone.
Tags: compassion empathy afterlife hatred forgiveness
We pretend to catch and eat more pretend bugs than could ever actually live in one cave. The number of pretend bugs we pretend to catch and eat would in reality basically fill a cave the size of our cave.
George SaundersMr. A calls me into his office and says he's got bad news and bad news, and which do I want first. I say the bad news.
George SaundersTags: humor absurd funny bad-news
Her hair looked like her hair in the dream and her eyes looked like her eyes in the dream, and as for her body, he couldn't tell, she was wearing a mumu.
George SaundersTags: love dreams delusion obesity
I hold the biscuits in front of his face and he stands up.
"What do I have to do?" he says.
"Nothing," I say. "They're for you."
"Are they poisoned?" he says.
"No," I say.
"Eat one," he says.
So I do.
"Probably the others are poisoned," he says. "Eat a fraction of each."
I eat a corner off each biscuit. He looks at the reminders suspiciously, then sniffs them.
"I'm not sure it's worth it," he says. "How I wish you'd never come. Perhaps you've left the poison off of just those corners."
I begin to realize I'll doubt whatever information he gives me.
"Lick the entire biscuit," he says. "Then give them to me."
So I lick each biscuit.
"Both sides," he says.
I lick both sides of each biscuit. I give him the wet biscuits and he cracks them open and sniffs them. Then he puts them in his pocket.
"What do you want?" he says. "Now that you've failed to poison me to death.
Tags: humor doubt absurd paranoia poisoning
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