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CHAPTER 26
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Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 27
He was sniffing, not crying. He ran a hand through his hair. She asked what it was he wanted to discuss and if it were about women being whores, he'd better step down her car, she told him. He told her that what he wanted to discuss with her was entirely unrelated. She told him that he was hoping they were plans to leave his depression. He looked at her, evidently irritated. He noticed that her car, unlike his mother's Taurus was too neat, but with the rosary smell, kind of. "Can I ask some questions. ""Why, shoot. "She was furious. He looked at her casually. But there was nothing casual about this boy. She felt a ripple. "Just any questions? ""Go ahead. Nothing stupid. ""These three years, anything significant happened? ""Yes and no. "She looked at him, his cheek was red. She hoped not to have hurt him. She wondered why her heart had stopped to count. "Like today, you. All changed, growing. Your hair used to be slippear, now its all full
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 28
It was a picture, memorable. When he flicked his cigerrate butt out the window. She could still remember it, the manner in which he had flicked his wrist. Adulf, please, I have allergies to this, she'd told him. He went 'holy mary', which made her really furious, but he tucked back the ciger stick. She swore. He was acting proud, like he had some honor badge with him. It was annoying when they were brilliant, and knew it. An idoit who was outstanding in all sciences was a fool worth listening to. She had to listen, to save him. Even when he snapped 'shut up. 'While she spoke. "These? "When she'd questioned the triple six signs he had on his nape. "Your God, is seven. The spirit of peace, truth, righteousness, love, what ever they are. But no one asks what the six spirits of Satan are. 6 is the devils number, mrs moorman. I made mine the triskelion shape so it looks like the Nazi's swasiki. The mark, is the number of a man, six hundred and three score and six, what it means
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 29
Just look at that botched flower verse, and the television playing the wrong channel, thought doctor montoya. The most infuriating of the situation was that the channel wasn't on its usual Catholic station. But there it was, a movie, in its love making scene. Her PA who was supposed to be on desk seemed no where to be found too. Perharps, gone to pee. No where else. Nicholes was young, and brother mark was her father. Dr montoya's glance fell on the gold wristwatch at once, not Nicholes type. Too expensive. Dr montoya felt her heart pound. Someone was in here--or forgotten his stuff in here (evidently a male wristwatch), but if so, the watch would not have been left here, it seemed too expensive for nicholes not to have noticed. but then a woman was the only kind of living entity which was entitled to live life half witted, but yet expected to be given love.she wondered what It would be like giving up practice. she pictured telling Nichole one day that she would have to go home. pe
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 30
Adulfs Cains diary wasn't in the drawer but in the empty skull. the therapist guessed that his mother had ransacked the room but found nothing of use. Dr montoya suspicion of Damaris Cain was strong although she could not deny that she liked the woman in a wanton sense. to montoya, wanton was a feeling hardly explainable, she did not like looking up the dictionary for any other meaning.Dr montoya joined Mrs Damaris Cain in the livingroom, the diary tucked in the pockets of her coat, suggested strongly that she would be leaving this night, fearing about sleeping overnight with her sudden discovery. not that she had discovered anything.she did not refuse the scotch drink offered to her from damaris.who began to talk about all her ambitions which was too late for her, although the the therapist didn't see any reasons that it was."my first acting performance was for Marilyn Monroe biography ,required that I should go nude. so I spoke with my husband of then, Jonathan. he refused, led
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 31
doctor montoya wanted to hear every word of what philbert had to say, but he was asleep.doing quite alright, according to Dr H who did not like sharing every clinical ideas with her victims caregivers.and while philbert was being fed with a tube on his nose, recovering quickly as stated, montoya moorman left the house--with the diary, which had gained more importance as the day passed by.six men had attacked her husband for the diary of her deceased client. had they known she was with it, unless otherwise..."Rylee what's wrong?"it was Philbert back from home, but not injured.she jumped"we're not in the hospital?""hospital? what are you saying.""oh God. it's happened again.""the hallucinations?"he hugged her while she sobbed on his shirt."I can't tell what's real or not real anymore Phil.""I'm always here with you. I'm real."he said. ******he made coffee while Dr H had just finished checking up on her. "why would you want me to check on what pseudocide is all about?"philber
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 32
montoya moorman called Mrs Damaris Cain for a reason--to play the game-a game she had no idea of it's rules. they talked to length, she was glad Damaris apologized for the attempted kiss, confessed that she and Jenna,Charles Roach wife had been hitting it ever before Jenna got married and they couldn't anymore--that she was lonely. however, montoya did not know she felt no irritation at the attempt.she drove back to penermans drive , hoping Damaris would not mistake this for an acceptance to flirt. she did.Damaris was glad to see her, wasn't glad when she told her she wanted to check out her son's room again to get into his head, her way of missing people. not a perfect lie, but a straight forward one at least.Damaris Cain allowed her, said she would be up to shower. at Adulfs room ,the therapist wondered whether Mrs Cain was planning to put on some sexy underwear to seduce her. she wasn't crazy,wouldn't attempt that.doctor montoya ransacked his bookshelf, the non fiction section
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 33
brother mark let in dr montoya moorman into his chembers where Doctor H , who montoya was now distrustful off, ran her tests."you can't see him now." H said."I have to."there was a fair exchange of glances. doctor H propted her glasses"Jesus,you shouldn't even be here, you're unwell your self.""I don't need you to tell me."the therapist frowned"I feel fine.""is it Rylee?"asked the priest, the words barely a mutter."I know you came here to ask him about Sara. Adulfs girlfriend.""and how would you know that Mrs H?"she humphed"Philbert was worried about you. he told me about your assumptions and worry. I'll spare you the stress of trying to get a rational word out of his mouth, we can grab coffee.""you talk everything you know.""fine. and you do Philbert a favor of going back home." ****funny enough, they went to the blue monkey bar, but not to grab coffee, Dumont Bucharest had my heart is a black hoe on his stereo, still a big geek on depressing music.he served whisky.while
Fake London bridge is falling down CHAPTER 34
now, here was how Adulf Cain got to end his life, for it was rumured that who ever got to sleep with the anti Christ lost their lives. the 15 year old was a frequent costumer to vergil's red light. usually, you pulled out good dollars a session , so long as you could fake sounds and love what you did. he was also a somewhat erotism idealist, assuming he were to found some philosophy,he would have began with the virtue of good sex.but for a prostitute,money was the dominant factor to the work. you didn't need a small room to start, although according to Sara you needed a small room, one that had a window , perhaps like De wallen where you could charge for oral or penetration. to meet costumers, Marcos bar (the blue monkey) was surely the right spot. Dumont Bucharest was gay,so it was hard paying in any kind to redeem taxes. but as the prostitute increased together with the violence, and as things never quite matched up to what the good mother had supposedly stated it would have been.
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