(no subject)

 Rafer jumped up on Tom’s chair and began washing his paws in the white light of the Coleman lantern. Even with the lantern’s steady low hiss, Clay could hear him purring. As far as Rafe was concerned, life was still cool.

 He thought of Alice twirling the small sneaker and wondered, almost idly, if it was possible for a fifteen-year-old girl to have a nervous breakdown.

 “Don’t be stupid,” he told the cat. “Of course it is. Happens all the time. They make movies of the week about it.”

 Rafer looked at him with wise green eyes and went on licking his paw. Tell me more, those eyes seemed to say. Vere you beaten as a child? Did you have ze sexual thoughts about your mother?

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(no subject)

“Except maybe for California, Massachusetts has got the toughest gun law in the country. If the cops find a concealed handgun in your car—meaning like in the glove compartment with your registration and insurance card—they can put you away for I think seven years. Get stopped with a loaded rifle in your pickup, even in hunting season, and you could get slapped with a ten-thousand-dollar fine and two years of community service. You can own a handgun and keep it in your home if you’re not a felon, but a license to carry? Maybe if you’ve got Father O’Malley of the Boys’ Club to cosign, but maybe not even then.”

Ой, да что ты мне рассказываешь? Винчестеры с полным багажником оружия бывали в Массачусетсе дважды, а в Калифорнии как минимум десять раз 
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