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“Cheer up, chickies! Just ’cause you’re dead don’t otta be so damn dull! Waa waa, my boyfriend didn’t save me! My husband was a meanie! Who cares? I ask ya! Lookit all these blubberin’ MUGS! Why the long fuckin’ faces, Mrs Horsey and Miss Nag? Halfa you got onna bust somethin’ if you don’t catch a train to Coolville on the lickety-split You wanna Valiuot some in my purse”
A blond girl na and hold out their hands Pauline giggles
“Naw, I’ot nothin’ Pockets like a hobo clown They don’t let ya bring the fun stuff down here to D Ward! Deadtown Pharmacy only has one prescription and it’s for Mr Place E Bo, and that guy is a dick What I wouldn’t give for a nice bouquet of benzos hipped creaht, ladies? Ladies?” Pauline thron her fork “This is the worst group therapy ever You’re all against irl Ooooo, so scary! You’re all so pretty and perfect and tragic, aren’t you? Not o-fuck-yourself fuse and a soul like a stubbed-out cigarette Well, what’s being good ever got ya? Huh? That’s what I thought Sorry, we’re full up on Madonnas around here Tis her arm around Julia’s pale shoulders “Aw, come on! Didn’tya ever wanna try it? Just the once? Oh, baby, everyone’s doin’ it It feels so good If you lovedDon’t you listen to those prudes It doesn’t hurt Just slip on sooddamn slice of whatever cake they said you couldn’t have, and be a VILLAIN for a night! Come on You know they deserve it You know they ALL deserve it What’s the use of all that rage you got if you don’t take it out for a spin? You just sit here by me Pretty Polly kno to drive stick”
Daisy laughs, a short, sharp bark, but not because anything’s funny She laughs because she finally remembers where she’s seen Pauline Ketch before Pauline drinks that hollow laugh like root beer
“Yeah, that’s raph, hot stuff? I’h Hellion of Guignol City, bank blower-upper and cop knocker-downer, professional punk, voted Most Likely to Piss in Grimdark’s Sad Black Cornflakes, and the hottest little bat in Mr Punch’s belfry I’m not like the rest of you Deadtown’s a pit stop I’m in, I’m out, PRESTO-CHANGO! Poof! Now you see s Mylike your sad-sack pizza delivery boys, over it and dancin’ on yer grave in thirty et about rab onta o”
THE TRAGICAL COMEDY OR COMICAL TRAGEDY OF PAULINE KETCH
I met my baby the old-fashioned way—in prison! Good ol’ Sarkomand Sanatorium, my home away from hoh bells, and Santa Claus the electroshock therapist! He brings suction cups and pretty blue wires for ALL the good boys and girls! B Ward is the Extra Very Doubly Special Barbie Drea was there! Rat Bastard, Miasalodonall the greats!
Now, you uns and a silver ot me a superpower, too
I can make anybody like me for about five minutes
Ten if I try hard It always goes to shit after that Can’t help it, the real me just squirts out all over the place, and the real et crazy far in this world on the back of soirl ever for five minutes a pop
Never worked on uess that’s what you call a weakness Like what’s-his-nareen crystals Daddu he needed to knoasn’t a boy and I was bad Buh-buh-buh-bad to the bone He told the doc: Better not turn the lights off in there at night Anything could happen Thanks a bunch, Daddy Ketch! Oh sure, he was right, but maybe he wouldn’ta been if I hadn’t heard that shit with my cute little baby ears, you know?
So, naturally, I burned our fancy house dohen I enty-one Anything can happen if you believe in yourself! Then I ran away and burned some other fancy-people stuff down, and just when I was settlin’ into the arsonist’s lifestyle real nice, some dumb ox in body ar a nice post-exploded-country-club cigarette But rich girls don’t go to jail! Rich girls aren’t cris So, Daddy’s fat shiny na’s personal freak show
Pops walked me up
the garden path to Sarkomand Used to be some other richie’s pad, tacky fake-Greek statues all over the place, full of filthy old s, roof all scrunched up like there was a going-outta-gables sale I skipped along and lacedour hands and said:
“Aw, Daddy, d’ya think the other kids will like me? D’ya think I’ll make a friend on the very first day? D’ya think I’ll be the teacher’s pet?”