I’ve been reading a trilogy by Justin Cronin called The Passage. It’s a dark story about a vampiric apocalypse, so intense that it bleeds not only into my dreams but my waking hours as well. Instead of the Walking Dead, it’s the Walking Undead.
As I was washing dishes, handling a large carving knife, the following conversation with Stephen occurred.
Pam: Wow. This is a huge knife. This is the kind of knife you could murder someone with. I can’t think of anyone I want to murder but if I do I’ll have to take some precautionary steps before the crime. Our knifes don’t match so we should be able to replace the murder weapon without suspicion. We’ll just have to be sure to pay cash. I would want you to buy it so I’m not implicated. Make sure you wear a hat so they can’t see your face in the security cameras.
The next morning, I woke up with a bite-shaped bruise on my forearm.
Pam: Did you bite me?
Pam: Here, look at my arm. Did you bite me? Because if you did and your intent was to infect me with a deadly virus, you need to penetrate the skin and this bite didn’t break the skin.
Stephen: It wasn’t me. [As if it could have been anyone else.]
I just finished book two in the trilogy and have decided to engage in some lighter reading before attacking the final book because Stephen just can’t seem to follow the conversation.
May the farce be with you!