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nostril and repeated it for the
other. He grabbed for the top item in Lori’s folded laundry,
pulling out a white fuzzy sock with what looked like some sort of
face on it.
    “Not Lambchop,” yelled Lori, putting her
knee onto one of the redhead’s wrists as she grabbed a balled-up
pair of pantyhose from the bag and rolled them to Larry, who
stuffed them into the redhead’s mouth.
    His mouth gagged, his nostrils stuffed, the
pair holding his hands and sitting on him, there was little the
District Manager could do. He shook his head and blinked rapidly,
but the orange dust was as stuck to his face as if to pre-licked
fingers. “Able to breathe?” The redhead shook his head and Larry
pulled out one of the puffs.
    Larry turned the redhead onto his belly and
told Lori to switch places. Lori tightly gripped each of the
District Manager’s wrists and pushed his hands high up into his
back. Larry scrambled about, found a pen and paper and got on his
knees, leaning low so as to get face-to-face with the redhead.
Larry grabbed the kid’s hair and used it like a mop handle,
dragging his face back and forth into the orange chip debris,
smooshing it deeper into the plush cream-colored carpet. Larry
pulled the red hair and whispered into the kid’s ear.
    “You’re gonna sign two notes, your
Assholiness,” said Larry. “You’re allowing Lori to borrow your car
during her vacation and you’re fine with that or we release note
two, in which you confess to having tried to rape her.” When the
redhead appeared to object, Larry reached for another cheese puff
and restuffed the empty nostril. Larry pulled out his cell phone.
“Let’s take some pictures.” Larry shot several images of the
redhead, his face caked in orange paste, chips in his nose, gagged.
Larry looked at each one and showed them, in turn, to the kid. “Now
some video,” said Larry, pointing the camera. He let go of the
kid’s hair, pulled out the pantyhose, and leaned in. “Out loud,
now: ‘It’s okay that Lori’s using my car. I tried to rape her.’
”
    The redhead said nothing. Larry pushed his
face deep into the carpet, matted with food and sweat. He used a
knee to keep the redhead’s face deep in the carpet as he tore open
the pork rinds he had thrown earlier. He ground them into the
redhead’s face and repeated the instructions.
    “Lori..., she is using my car... it’s okay,”
said the redhead.
    Larry scooped up a mixture of orange and
light brown mush and pushed it into the redhead’s cheek. Nothing.
Larry held his hand just below the kid’s nose and put his middle
finger on his thumb, before releasing it, thwacking the cheese puff
deeper into the nostril. Nothing. Larry thwacked the second puff.
Nothing. Larry stuck his finger into the stub of the puff and
jammed it deep into the nose itself, then pulled it out and wiped
it on the redhead’s lips.
    “I... I tried to... rape Lori,” said the
District Manager.
    “And one last photo,” said Larry, snapping
and showing before he pocketed his phone and went to the counter to
write out the two notes, while Lori held the District Manager’s
wrists high in his back. Circling through the apartment, Larry
found two cell phones and a wallet. He opened the sliding glass
door and hurled each of the phones out towards the ocean below,
    “Was the iPhone the company line?” Larry
asked the redhead, who didn’t answer. Sifting through the wallet,
Larry found the driver’s license, which he flicked out the window,
and proof of auto liability insurance, which he pocketed.
    .
    “You and that carnival arm!” yelled Lori, as
she drove up Hawthorne Boulevard.
    “It’s hard to knock over metal milk
bottles,” said Larry.
    “You’re gonna have to win me some more
stuffed animals one day,” said Lori. “We’re headed for the 405, but
this thing’s almost out’ta gas.”
    “We’re fine,” said Larry. “My Grandma
deposited three months of rent and pocket money, so I got us
covered. But