What do you think?
Rate this book


240 pages, Paperback
First published October 13, 2015
Most of the things Pillow really liked to do were obviously morally wrong. He wasn't an idiot; clearly it was wrong to punch people in the face for money. But there had been an art to it, and it had been thrilling and thoughtful for him. The zoo was also evil, a jail for animals who'd committed no crimes, but he just loved it. The way Pillow figured it, love wasn't about goodness, it wasn't about being right, loving the very best person, having the most ethical fun. Love was about being alone and making some decisions.
Her sergeant, Michael Simon, was no wider than a highway and no uglier than a piece of roadkill. He had giant, bulging eyes and a few foreheads, a healthy helping of jowl hanging off a stingy slice of chin. He looked like someone who smelled like the inside of a crowded shipping container.
As soon as Pillow arrived at the Bureau, Breton hustled him right back out to help roust Jack Prevert, a degenerate gambler who owned a sewing-supply shop. Jack Prevert looked like a suicidally depressed guppy with hair plugs. Jack Prevert made it seem possible to smoke roll-your-owns at the bottom of the sea. Jack Prevert shovelled chips onto the table like he was bailing out a rowboat. Jack Prevert looked you in the eyes the same way most people look out their windshield on the Autobahn.
'Okay. To sum it up, you're at home, you're doing some kind of horrible sex thing and you realize that you're late for a stolen centaur-coin sale, and your lunatic friend in a morphine coma has stolen your centaur coins, so you decide to pack him up and bring him to the buy of the coins he's stolen. I get all that, ish, y'know? But why do you give him a dinner fork? That's...that's where I'm lost on this one.'
'He must have had it in his sock.'
'How is that the first thing you say? Just right to the sock? “Hey, sorry I almost got your eye stabbed, Pillow.” Nope? Just out with the sock idea.'
'The foot is the most human part of the body. Think of apes.'
'Okay, I'm about done with you. You know I love apes, you know that about me, Georges, but now is not the time. So, since this is a majillion percent your fault, you're going to help me with this situation here. I need both hands, so you open the door. I'll handle Artaud, and you stay out of the way, sound good?'