(reading time: 36 minutes)
A House-boat on the Styx
A protest raged outside the home of Bill Smithers. A hundred boots stomped up and down on the sidewalk in rhythm. Bottles, eggs, and fruit sailed over the hedges. The crowd would’ve preferred rotten fruit, but when there’s an apple or a pear on your page it usually came out looking ready to sit in a bowl for a portrait instead of mushy and covered in maggots. Cardboard signs waved in the air or hung around the neck by rope, their messages written sloppily in big splotchy swipes, which made it impossible to tell if they were written in haste or written with the ink from an open wound. Everyone shouted the same sorts of things on the signs. Continue reading