The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove - By Christopher Moore Page 0,30
tend to leave more than one track, unless it's a creature especially adapted for hopping." Gabe grinned.
The flying dog head pogoed by the windowsill.
"There were a lot of people and vehicles around there, the other tracks might have been wiped out."
"Theo, don't let your imagination run away with you. You've had a long day and..."
"And I'm a pothead."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"I know, I'm saying it. Tell me about your rats. What will you do when you find them?"
"Well, first I'm going to keep searching for the stimulus of their behavior, then I'll catch a few of the group that migrated and compare their brain chemistry to those that headed toward the shore."
"Does that hurt them?"
"You have to blend up their brains and run the liquid in a centrifuge."
"I guess so then."
The waitress brought their pizza and Gabe was severing cables of cheese from his first slice when Theo's cell phone rang. The constable listened for a second, then stood and dug into his pocket for money. "I've got to go, Gabe."
"What's up?"
"The Plotznik kid is missing. No one's seen him since he left on his paper route this morning."
"Probably hiding. That kid is evil. He rigged up something with his remote control car that affected the chips in my rats once. I spent three weeks trying to figure out why they were running figure eights in the parking lot outside the grocery story before I found him lurking in the weeds with the controller."
"I know," Theo said. "Mikey told me that if he wired ten of your rats together, he could pick up the Discovery Channel. I still have to find him. He has parents."
"Skinner is a pretty good tracker. Want to take him?"
"Thanks, but I doubt that the kid had a pizza in his pocket."
Theo folded his phone, snagged a slice of pizza for the road, and headed out the door.
Ten
Val Riordan leaned against her office door, trying to catch her breath and maintain her temper. Nothing in her clinical experience compared to the sessions she held on the day after the Texaco exploded. She had seen twenty patients in ten hours, and every one of them had wanted to talk about sex. And not abstract sex either, not issues or attitudes about sex, just squishy, thumping sex itself. It was unnerving.
She'd anticipated a spike in libido among her patients (it was a common symptom of withdrawal from antidepressants), but the books said not more than five to fifteen percent would have a reaction - about the same number that experienced a loss of libido upon taking the drugs. But today she'd hit one hundred percent. It was as if she were running a kennel for hopeless horndogs rather than a psychiatric practice.
After the last patient, she'd come out of her office to find her new receptionist, Chloe, furiously masturbating, her feet hooked into the edge of the desk, her steno chair squeaking like a tortured squirrel. Val had excused herself, turned on her heel, walked back into her office, and shut the door.
Chloe, twenty-one, had maroon hair, an entire wardrobe rendered in black, and a sapphire nose ring. Val had begun treating the girl in her teens for bulimia, then hired her when the volume of appointments skyrocketed after the placebo went into effect. Chloe worked in exchange for therapy; Val had thought it would be a good financial move. Frankly, she'd liked her better when she just threw up a lot.
Val was still trying to figure out exactly what to do when there was a soft knock on the door.
"Yes?"
"Sorry," Chloe said through the door.
"Uh, Chloe, that is not appropriate office behavior."
"Well, your last appointment had left. I thought that you would be working on your notes or something for a while. I'm really sorry."
"That's it? My last appointment leaves, so let the wild rumpus begin?"
"Am I fired?"
Val thought for a second. There were twenty more patients to see tomorrow and twenty the day after that. If the weirdness didn't kill her, the workload would. She couldn't afford to lose Chloe now. "No, you're not fired. But please, no more of that in the office."
"Do you have time to talk? I know my next session isn't until next week, but I really need to talk to you."
"Wouldn't you prefer to go home and, uh, think about things?"
"You mean finish? No, I'm finished for now. That's what I want to talk to you about. That wasn't the first time today."