Read Vernon God Little for Free Online Page B

shoppe. Yeah, the meatworks has its own barber on Saturdays, It's just ole Mr Deutschman and me here this morning. And Mom.
    'Well don't listen to Vernon, the unisex usually takes off a lot.'
    Her head-scarf and shades supposedly make her invisible. The invisible twitching woman. Me, I wear the reddest T-shirt you ever saw, like a goddam six-year-old or something. I didn't want to wear it. She controls what you wear by keeping everything else damp in the laundry.
    'Well go ahead, sir, it'll only grow back.'
    'Hell, Ma …'
    'Vernon I'm only trying to help you out. We'll have to find you some decent shoes too.'
    Sweat starts to pool in my ass. The lights are off, just one ray glows sideways through the door onto these green tiles. The air reeks of flesh. Flies guard two historical barber chairs in the middle of the room; white leather turned brown, cracked and hardened to plastic. I check them for arm clamps.
    I'm in one, Deutschman is in the other; his hands creep around under his gown. He seems happy to wait. Then a whistle blows outside, and the meatworks' marching band assembles on the gravel in the yard. 'Braaap, barp, bap,' band practice starts. One majorette I see through the door is about eighty-thousand years ole, her buns smack the backs of her legs as she marches. My eyes flee to a TV in the corner of the room.

    'Look, Vernon, he doesn't have arms or legs, but he's neatly groomed. And he has a job, look -
    he even invests on the stock market.'
    They ask the kid on TV what it feels like to be so gifted. He just shrugs and says, 'Isn't everybody?'
    The barber mostly slashes mid-air; two halves of a fly hit the deck. 'Barry was here. Said there could be a drugs link.'
    'A drug slink, yes,' says Mr Deutschman.
    'A drugs link, or another firearm.'
    'Another farm, uh-huh. I heard it was a panty cult - you hear it was a panty cult?'
    On balance, today sucks. You don't want to be here if they find any drugs. So I'm here with two spliffs, and two acid pearls in my pocket; nasty gels, according to Taylor, like your mind would projectile-exit your nose if you took one. I tried to ditch them on the way down, but Fate was against me. Fate's always fucken against me these days.
    Load my pack, and lope away is what I'll do; all crusty and lonely, like you see on TV. Ditch Taylor's dope, and lope away. More successfully than last night, with Lally and the world's media camped outside. I only got four steps away from my porch before they came a-sniffing. Now they think I take out the trash in my backpack. Last night was long, boy, long and shivery with ghosts and realizations. Realizations that I have to act.
    'Vaine's coming down with they dogs,' says the barber. 'I'll tell her we need a SWAT team, with some of they automatic guns, that rip the meat off offenders' bodies, not any ole dogs.' Click, slash; he evens up my skull. I scan the floor for ears.
    'Meat's better'n dogs,' says Deutschman.
    'Sit still, Vern,' says Mom.
    'I have stuff to do.'
    'Well, Harris' store might take you on.'
    'What?'
    'For a job, you know - Seb Harris even bought himself a truck!'
    'That ain't what I'm talking about. Anyway, Seb's dad just happens to own the whole store.'
    'Well, you're the man of the house now, I'm counting on you to make good. All the boys I know have jobs, that's all.'
    'Like which boys, Ma, like just who?'
    'Well - Randy and Eric?'
    'Randy and Eric are dead.'
    'Vernon Gregory, I'm just saying if you want to prove you're all grown up it's about time you got wise to the way things work in this world. Be a man.'
    'Yeah, right.'
    'And don't you get smart either, in front of everybody. Don't let's end up like that other time after I found those underpants.' Deutschman's hand twitches under his gown.
    'Damn, Momma!'

    'Go ahead, cuss your mother!'
    'I ain't cussing!'
    'My God, if your father was here …'
    'Here's Vaine,' says the barber. I spin out of the chair, ripping the gown off over my head.
    'Well go ahead, Vernon - go right ahead