Read Frankenstein for Free Online

ignorant is a choice. Grandmama said there were very few truly dumb people in Hell but so many ignorant that you couldn’t count them all.
    Nummy pretended not to notice how bad Mr. Lyss stank, but he noticed, all right.
    Another problem with Mr. Lyss was that he was excitable.
    In her last years, Grandmama spent a lot of time making sure Nummy knew what kind of people to stay away from after she was gone and not able to help him make decisions.
    For instance, wicked people were those who would want him to do things he knew, in his heart, were wrong. Smart or not smart, we all know right and wrong in our hearts, Grandmama said. If someone tried to argue Nummy into doing something he knew in his heart was wrong, that person might or might not be ignorant, but that person was for sure wicked.
    Excitable people might or might not be wicked, but mostly they were bad news, too. Excitable people couldn’t control their emotions. They might not mean to lead Nummy into wickedness or big trouble of one kind or another, but they’d do it anyway if he wasn’t careful.
    Mr. Lyss was one of the most excitable people Nummy ever met. As Chief Jarmillo and Sergeant Rapp walked away and climbed the stairs at the end of the hall, Nummy sat on the lower bunk, but Mr. Lyss shouted after them, saying he wanted an attorney and he wanted one
now
. With both hands, he shook the cell door, making a racket. He stamped his feet. He spat out words that Nummy had never heard before but that he knew in his heart were words that it was wrong to say.
    When the policemen were gone, Mr. Lyss turned to his cellmate. Nummy smiled, but Mr. Lyss did not.
    The old man’s face was squinched and angry—or maybe that was just his usual look, a condition not a choice. Nummy had never seen him looking any other way. His short hair was standing out in all directions, the way cartoon animals’ fur and feathers stood out in all directions when they got an electric shock. His bared teeth werelike lumps of charcoal after all the black has been burned out of them. His lips were so thin, his mouth looked like a slash.
    “What the blazing hell did he mean, we’re livestock?” Mr. Lyss demanded.
    Nummy said, “I don’t know that there word.”
    “What word?
Livestock
? You live in Montana and you don’t know livestock? Why’re you jerking my chain?”
    Nummy said what was only true: “You don’t have no chain, sir.”
    Looming over Nummy, bony fists clenched, Mr. Lyss said, “You being smart with me, boy?”
    “No, sir. I’m not smart, I’m blessed.”
    Mr. Lyss stared hard at him. After a while, Nummy looked down at the floor. When he raised his eyes again, the old man was still staring at him.
    At last, Mr. Lyss said, “You’re some kind of dummy.”
    “Is there more kinds than one?”
    “There’s a million kinds. There’s the kind who’re dumb about money. There’s others dumb about women. Some are so dumb they spend their whole lives with their heads up their butt.”
    “Up whose butt, sir?”
    “Up their own butt, whose butt do you think?”
    “Can’t be done,” said Nummy. “Not your own head up your own.”
    “It’s possible,” Mr. Lyss insisted.
    “Even it could be possible, why would they?”
    “Because they’re morons,” Mr. Lyss said. “It’s what they
do
.”
    Still doubtful, Nummy said, “They must be way dumber than me.”
    “Lots of people are dumber than you because they don’t realize they’re dumb. You realize it. That’s something, anyways.”
    “I know my limits,” Nummy said.
    “You’re a lucky man.”
    “Yes, sir. That’s why they say what they say.”
    Mr. Lyss scowled. “What do you mean, what do they say?”
    “Dumb luck. They call it that ’cause it happens to dumb people. But it’s never luck, it’s God. God looks out for folks like me.”
    “He does, huh? How do you know?”
    “Grandmama told me, and Grandmama she never lied.”
    “Everybody lies, boy.”
    “I don’t,” said