Американские боги
Chapter 8
Shadowthoughtherecognizedtheman,butthelightonthesnowwasplayingtricksonhiseyes,andhewalkedcloserandcloserinordertobesure.Themanworeapatcheddenimjacketandabaseballcap.
Andthen,underthebridgeinthewinterdarknesshewascloseenoughtoseethepurplesmudgeofbruisearoundtheman’seye,andhesaid,"Goodmorning,MadSweeney."
Theworldwassoquiet.Notevencarsdisturbedthesnowboundsilence.
"Hey,man,"saidMadSweeney.Hedidnotlookup.Thecigarettehadbeenrolledbyhand.Shadowwonderedifthemanwassmokingajoint.No,thesmellwastobacco.
"Youkeephangingoutunderbridges,MadSweeney,"saidShadow,"peoplegonnathinkyou’reatroll."
ThistimeMadSweeneylookedup.Shadowcouldseethewhitesofhiseyesallaroundhisirises.Themanlookedscared."Iwaslookin’foryou,"hesaid."Yougottahelpme,man.Ifuckedupbig-time."Hesuckedonhishand-rolledcigarette,pulleditawayfromhismouth.Thecigarettepaperstucktohislowerlip,andthecigarettefellapart,spillingitscontentsontohisgingerbeardanddownthefrontofhisfilthyT-shirt.MadSweeneybrusheditoff,convulsively,withblackenedhands,asifitwereadangerousinsect.
"Myresourcesareprettymuchtappedout,MadSweeney,"saidShadow."Butwhydon’tyoutellmewhatitisyouneed.Youwantmetogetyouacoffee?"
MadSweeneyshookhishead.
