“You’re not like most of my patrons,” says Dr. Arcticus. I don’t reply. It’s the fourth time I’ve been here, but only the first time that he’s flirted with the notion of small talk. After some final touches, he presents the first dish of many: ten poached toes, sans toenails, served with vinaigrette and thin slices of lemon.
After supper with my parents I gonext door from the buffeteria tothe drug store to look at the comic books.It’s 1965. They’re twelve cents each.Georgia sales tax is…