Американские боги

           Towncrosseshislegs,tugshisbelthigheronhisbelly—gottolosetheselasttenpounds—andawayfromhisbladder.Thenanurbanevoicesays,"Hello,MisterTown."

           "Welostthem,"saysTown.Hefeelsaknotoffrustrationinhisgut:thesewerethebastards,thelousydirtysonsofbitcheswhokilledWoodyandStone,forChrissakes.Goodmen.Goodmen.HebadlywantstofuckMrs.Wood,butknowsit’sstilltoosoonafterWoody’sdeathtomakeamove,soheistakingheroutfordinnereverycoupleofweeks,aninvestmentinthefuture,she’sjustgratefulfortheattention…

           "How?"

           "Idon’tknow.Wesetuparoadblock,therewasnowheretheycouldhavegoneandtheywentthereanyway."

           "Justanotheroneoflife’slittlemysteries.Nottoworry.Haveyoucalmedthelocals?"

           "Told’emitwasanopticalillusion."

           "Theybuyit?"

           "Probably."

           TherewassomethingveryfamiliaraboutMr.World’svoice—whichwasastrangethingtothink,he’dbeenworkingforhimdirectlyfortwoyearsnow,spokentohimeveryday,ofcoursetherewassomethingfamiliarabouthisvoice.

           "They’llbefarawaybynow."

           "Shouldwesendpeopledowntothereztointerceptthem?"

           "Notworththeaggravation.Toomanyjurisdictionalissues,andthereareonlysomanystringswecanpullinamorning.Wehaveplentyoftime.