A Guest in the Parsons’s House
Something you might not know about me is how fast I can ramp up to full speed. It’s like this: Boom! Or even quicker than that! But no time for thinking now. In fact, that’s one of my core beliefs. You can take it to the bank, although maybe not our bank, where we’re having a little problem with Ms. Oxley, the manager. I tore across the back hall of the Parsons house, through the kitchen, past Iggy’s water bowl, just about full to the top, into the front hall, then – with no warning at all, caught completely by surprise! – stopping on a dime, the kind of stop where the whole rug comes loose and for a moment you’re surfing, the way Bernie and I did on our trip to San Diego – a story I’ll try to go into later – and the next thing I knew I was back at Iggy’s bowl, lapping of every single drop of his water, except what might have gotten spilled. Then came a pivot so fast I almost puked – hey! no almost about it! – and I was back in the front hall, where I caught a glimpse of the rug – Persian, was that the name? – sort of crumpled under a big plant that had somehow tipped over, scattering a surprising amount of dirt all over the – But that was all I glimpsed. You can only glimpse so much.
– from The Iggy Chronicles, Volume 1, now available from all the usual sources for $.99.
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