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.
My name is Dave and I am dead. The doctors said it was a brain aneurysm no one could’ve predicted. I was only 38. Despite the circumstances, I convinced my boss Andrew to let me keep my job; minus health coverage.
“You’re dead.” Andrew told me while checking off pages on his metallic clipboard. The clipboard made it seem he was writing something important, but it was only inventory.
“Dead people don’t need benefits.” Andrew continued. “They don’t use prescriptions, and they don’t need check-ups.” He flipped a page and thumbed through a box of Payday chocolate bars, marking with his pen as he counted.