The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove by Christopher Moore Page A

story before I found him lurking in the weeds with the controller.”
    â€œI know,” Theo said. “Mikey told me that if he wired ten of your rats together, he could pick up the Discovery Channel. I still have to find him. He has parents.”
    â€œSkinner is a pretty good tracker. Want to take him?”
    â€œThanks, but I doubt that the kid had a pizza in his pocket.”
    Theo folded his phone, snagged a slice of pizza for the road, and headed out the door.

ten
    Val Riordan leaned against her office door, trying to catch her breath and maintain her temper. Nothing in her clinical experience compared to the sessions she held on the day after the Texaco exploded. She had seen twenty patients in ten hours, and every one of them had wanted to talk about sex. And not abstract sex either, not issues or attitudes about sex, just squishy, thumping sex itself. It was unnerving.
    She’d anticipated a spike in libido among her patients (it was a common symptom of withdrawal from antidepressants), but the books said not more than five to fifteen percent would have a reaction—about the same number that experienced a loss of libido upon taking the drugs. But today she’d hit one hundred percent. It was as if she were running a kennel for hopeless horndogs rather than a psychiatric practice.
    After the last patient, she’d come out of her office to find her new receptionist, Chloe, furiously masturbating, her feet hooked into the edge of the desk, her steno chair squeaking like a tortured squirrel. Val had excused herself, turned on her heel, walked back into her office, and shut the door.
    Chloe, twenty-one, had maroon hair, an entire wardrobe rendered in black, and a sapphire nose ring. Val had begun treating the girl in her teens for bulimia, then hired her when the volume of appointments skyrocketed afterthe placebo went into effect. Chloe worked in exchange for therapy; Val had thought it would be a good financial move. Frankly, she’d liked her better when she just threw up a lot.
    Val was still trying to figure out exactly what to do when there was a soft knock on the door.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œSorry,” Chloe said through the door.
    â€œUh, Chloe, that is not appropriate office behavior.”
    â€œWell, your last appointment had left. I thought that you would be working on your notes or something for a while. I’m really sorry.”
    â€œThat’s it? My last appointment leaves, so let the wild rumpus begin?”
    â€œAm I fired?”
    Val thought for a second. There were twenty more patients to see tomorrow and twenty the day after that. If the weirdness didn’t kill her, the workload would. She couldn’t afford to lose Chloe now. “No, you’re not fired. But please, no more of that in the office.”
    â€œDo you have time to talk? I know my next session isn’t until next week, but I really need to talk to you.”
    â€œWouldn’t you prefer to go home and, uh, think about things?”
    â€œYou mean finish? No, I’m finished for now. That’s what I want to talk to you about. That wasn’t the first time today.”
    Val gulped. It was highly unprofessional to talk to a patient through a door. She steeled herself and opened it. “Come in.” She returned to her desk without looking at the girl. Chloe took a seat across from her.
    â€œSo this wasn’t the first time today?” Val was the psychotherapist now, not the boss. If she’d been the boss, she would have come over the desk and strangled the little slut.
    â€œNo, I can’t seem to get enough. I, well, it startedabout two in the morning, and I went straight though until time to get ready for work. Then once or twice while each patient was in session.”
    Val’s jaw dropped. Sixteen hours of intermittent masturbation? The other patients she had seen had cited two in the morning as when their sexual adventures had started too. She said,