My neighbor Betty had become my nemesis. I’m not sure how it all began, but over the last 13 days, things had escalated into an intolerable state. Though we love our neighbors, somehow I knew that today it would end, resulting in the end of Betty or the end of me. I looked back at the 13 days, trying to figure out how it had gotten to this point.

From: Leo A. Davenport
To: Jane McIntyre-Davenport
Time: 9:03 a.m.
Subject: Looking forward to the weekend

One thing: do you think you could remember to flush the toilet from now on, after a shower? This isn’t the first time I’ve asked, as you know. It’s just unpleasant; you’re my wife.

Also, I feel like we have to have a longer conversation about Janet. Another weird exchange this morning.

Looking forward to the weekend!

John had turned a corner. Not figuratively so much as literally. As in he was headed forward and had taken a sharp 90 degree turn after passing the end of the wall to his left. As people turning corners often do. Anyway, John had turned a corner, and what he found around the bend changed his life forever. Wait, I guess that means he sort of turned a corner figuratively, as well. Okay, forget that first bit, then.

I let the mayor’s plane buzz Chicago’s lakeshore twice before I reach into the cockpit with my mind and jam the yoke sideways. I fully expect Zooster to show up and fight me, but not before I execute a few barrel rolls and then land the plane in the middle of Grant Park. My name is Rogue Agent. I used to be a hero called Z-pack, Chicago’s favorite sidekick, fighting for order and justice.

Now all I want is to see a picture of the mayor’s wet pants on the front page of the Tribune tomorrow.

Morning… Jesus came down and said I could see him in French toast if I wanted.

I said, “Jesus,” addressing him directly, “that’s pretty god damned clichéd.” Jesus said that that hurt his feelings because he’d seen me in a pancake. He might cry special tears now.