cops are leaving.” She watched forlornly as one car sped away, its flashers extinguished now. The other two squads loitered for a while longer, then car doors slammed. Their headlights were like spaceships turning and hurtling through a black void, speeding back into town.
“Boy are they dumb,” Ronnie gloated. “I don’t think they even looked around back.”
“They were just too awestruck by the devastation we left behind us.”
“Shaddup, OK?”
Josie straightened and tried to uncramp her legs. “So where do you guys live?”
“Oh, we don’t have to go home right away. We could hang out for a while.”
“Sure.” She didn’t care what she did anymore. None of it mattered. They piled in together, Moron in the passenger seat and Ronnie in the back, and they said nice car, just to be polite, although she could tell they didn’t think much of it, a dinky little Toyota, a girl’s car. They went through her CDs and they seemed to think she had at least a few decent ones. They blasted the air conditioner but put the windows down to feel the artificial breeze their motion made. Josie thought how bizarre it would be if Tammy or anybody else she knew saw her cruising around with these guys. She’d never live it down. Moron was about twice the size of any normal human being outside of the World Wrestling Federation. And Ronnie was just … Well, she’d rather be her fucked-up idiot self than poor pit-faced, skanky Ronnie on the very best day of his life.
But here they were, motoring along, all goofy and full of fun. Moron said they should stop at Ronnie’s brother’s so they could get a couple of six-packs. Yeah? said Josie. She already felt drunkon nothing at all. When they got the beer she drank one just for thirst and didn’t feel a thing. It was long after eleven, too late for her to track down Mitchell Crook and do her usual twisted stalker thing, so she might as well enjoy herself some other sick way.
“This has to be the most boring-ass town in the world,” said Ronnie. He was trying to light a cigarette but his lighter was empty and the little wheel ground itself dry.
Josie said, “I’m looking forward to Y2K. Everything either shutting down or blowing up.”
Moron said, “You know all the Russian nuclear missiles? They could go off at midnight New Year’s Eve. The government just about admitted it.”
“Yeah, but Springfield’s not important enough to have its own missile.”
“My shit lighter just went Y2K.” Ronnie threw it out the window. It skittered away, as insubstantial as tinfoil.
They were driving past St. John’s Hospital, one of the few places in town with its lights still on. There was a row of corridor ends blazing away and the dimmer glow from the rooms themselves, their curtains mostly open, empty, since this was Springfield, after all, and few people even got sick in interesting ways. It was the same hospital where she had been born, although she didn’t like to think about that. The doctor said, It’s a girl, and her father said, Oh. If Abe had daughters instead of sons, would he still have loved them?
Josie wiggled one hand and Moron popped the top on a new beer and gave it to her. She said, “Seriously. What do you think’s gonna happen when we hit good old Y2K? Anything?”
“God I hope so. I don’t think I could stand another thousand years like these last ones.”
“But what?” she persisted. “How? All right, the missiles, that’s one thing.”
Moron cranked the music up so loud the speakers buzzed. “Fiona Apple, totally great. If you figure—”
“I have to turn this down, OK?”
“—that everything has computer chips in it now, I mean, how many chips do you think are in this car? And those satellites that control phones and ATMs and the stock market and airplanes and television and weather and shit? They’re gonna drop, splat. Burn big holes in the innocent bystanders. Civilization as we know it hits the tank. Then it’s every man for
“Boy are they dumb,” Ronnie gloated. “I don’t think they even looked around back.”
“They were just too awestruck by the devastation we left behind us.”
“Shaddup, OK?”
Josie straightened and tried to uncramp her legs. “So where do you guys live?”
“Oh, we don’t have to go home right away. We could hang out for a while.”
“Sure.” She didn’t care what she did anymore. None of it mattered. They piled in together, Moron in the passenger seat and Ronnie in the back, and they said nice car, just to be polite, although she could tell they didn’t think much of it, a dinky little Toyota, a girl’s car. They went through her CDs and they seemed to think she had at least a few decent ones. They blasted the air conditioner but put the windows down to feel the artificial breeze their motion made. Josie thought how bizarre it would be if Tammy or anybody else she knew saw her cruising around with these guys. She’d never live it down. Moron was about twice the size of any normal human being outside of the World Wrestling Federation. And Ronnie was just … Well, she’d rather be her fucked-up idiot self than poor pit-faced, skanky Ronnie on the very best day of his life.
But here they were, motoring along, all goofy and full of fun. Moron said they should stop at Ronnie’s brother’s so they could get a couple of six-packs. Yeah? said Josie. She already felt drunkon nothing at all. When they got the beer she drank one just for thirst and didn’t feel a thing. It was long after eleven, too late for her to track down Mitchell Crook and do her usual twisted stalker thing, so she might as well enjoy herself some other sick way.
“This has to be the most boring-ass town in the world,” said Ronnie. He was trying to light a cigarette but his lighter was empty and the little wheel ground itself dry.
Josie said, “I’m looking forward to Y2K. Everything either shutting down or blowing up.”
Moron said, “You know all the Russian nuclear missiles? They could go off at midnight New Year’s Eve. The government just about admitted it.”
“Yeah, but Springfield’s not important enough to have its own missile.”
“My shit lighter just went Y2K.” Ronnie threw it out the window. It skittered away, as insubstantial as tinfoil.
They were driving past St. John’s Hospital, one of the few places in town with its lights still on. There was a row of corridor ends blazing away and the dimmer glow from the rooms themselves, their curtains mostly open, empty, since this was Springfield, after all, and few people even got sick in interesting ways. It was the same hospital where she had been born, although she didn’t like to think about that. The doctor said, It’s a girl, and her father said, Oh. If Abe had daughters instead of sons, would he still have loved them?
Josie wiggled one hand and Moron popped the top on a new beer and gave it to her. She said, “Seriously. What do you think’s gonna happen when we hit good old Y2K? Anything?”
“God I hope so. I don’t think I could stand another thousand years like these last ones.”
“But what?” she persisted. “How? All right, the missiles, that’s one thing.”
Moron cranked the music up so loud the speakers buzzed. “Fiona Apple, totally great. If you figure—”
“I have to turn this down, OK?”
“—that everything has computer chips in it now, I mean, how many chips do you think are in this car? And those satellites that control phones and ATMs and the stock market and airplanes and television and weather and shit? They’re gonna drop, splat. Burn big holes in the innocent bystanders. Civilization as we know it hits the tank. Then it’s every man for
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