Mr. James’s Reviews > Freaks' Amour > Status Update
Mr. James
is on page 112 of 276
He breathed at me, then shuffled across the kitchen, his long, swollen, unserviceable arm dragging heavily behind him. It was wrapped in knotted dish towels and dustrags cinched with coarse twine. The hand was mittened in a tough vacuum-cleaner bag. The bag was polished shiny with dirt. Same as Ma, I'd always wondered how come he refused to have that arm amputated. -- T.D.H
— Aug 17, 2026 03:26AM
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Mr. James’s Previous Updates
Mr. James
is on page 210 of 276
"Nobody's going to heaven, just to space." -- T.D.H.
— 10 hours, 0 min ago
Mr. James
is on page 160 of 276
The Flukes had an even stronger animosity toward Freaks than Normals did. We were the new kids on the block, the foreign whores, the black sheep, the heteroclitic Mafia. We stood, chemical pretenders, outside of history and legend and art, we had no overtones and lit no votives to the memory of General Tom Thumb. -- T.D.H.
— Aug 23, 2026 05:02AM
Mr. James
is on page 152 of 276
She handed three singles upfront. On each bill Washington's eyes had been whited out with correction fluid; it made him look pathological, which was the whole point, I suppose. Fucken pro nihilists could be as cutesy sometimes as those sheiks who wore bubble rings filled with crude oil. -- T.D.H.
— Aug 22, 2026 01:13AM
Mr. James
is on page 140 of 276
Reeni was watching a program on television. It was a rerun -- I'd seen it last year -- about dolphins, about how they'd turned misanthropic, were refusing to share any more of their myths, their math or their semisacred medical arts. -- T.D.M.
— Aug 20, 2026 03:40AM
Mr. James
is on page 126 of 276
Nobody. Then somebody: two somebodies: a fox-faced dwarf and a guy with ropy red hair and a gulch where his nose should've been. They stepped through the curtain at the rear of the store. "How the fuck did you get in here?" demanded Gulch-face. I told him: I just walked in, the door was open. -- T.D.H.
— Aug 19, 2026 02:26AM
Mr. James
is on page 102 of 276
I nosed inside the refrigerator, which Ma had stocked weirdly with beer, frozen bagels and a bag of make-believe corn. -- T.D.M.
— Aug 16, 2026 05:32AM
Mr. James
is on page 64 of 276
The guy was standing there grinning, and his grin was a deliberate forgery of mine. -- T.D.M.
— Aug 11, 2026 02:51AM
Mr. James
is on page 44 of 276
Nothing had been disturbed and Reeni was still dead when I got back. Relief, like soda water hectic in my circulatory system. I locked the door behind me and bolted down salt pills galore. I took Reeni's pulse: the faintest perk. She was beginning to resurrect, still had a long way to come. Thirty, forty minutes. -- T.D.H
— Aug 09, 2026 03:51AM
Mr. James
is on page 24 of 276
Eventually, the market for proletarian Freak portraits withered and Da changed professions again: from photography to larceny, sometimes grand but mostly petty. Dragging that clunky arm of his along from shoplift to highjack, he must have been the most awkward crook in the annals of crime, but he managed. -- T.D.H.
— Aug 07, 2026 01:55AM
Mr. James
is on page 22 of 276
We were delivered by cesarean section (since it was impossible to exit by Mother's birth canal, a gauntlet of razor scales) in a special Freaks-only psychiatric ward at Jersey City Medical Center. -- T.D.H.
— Aug 07, 2026 01:15AM