Американские боги

           Theywereatthetopofahill,nearawaterfall,swollenwithmeltingsnowandrunoff.Itfell,instages,maybeseventyfeetbelowthem,maybeahundred.Thesunreflectedfromtheicewhichsheathedthetreesthatoverhungthewaterfallbasin.Thechurningnoiseasthewatercrashedandfellfilledtheair.

           "Wherearewe?"askedShadow.

           "Whereyouwerelasttime,"saidWhiskeyJack."Myplace.YouplanningonholdingontomyBudtillitwarmsup?Theyaren’tgoodlikethat."

           Shadowstoodupandpassedhimthecanofbeer."Youdidn’thaveawaterfalloutsideyourplacelasttimeIwashere,"hesaid.

           WhiskeyJacksaidnothing.HepoppedthetopoftheBud,anddrankhalfthecaninonelongslowswallow.Thenhesaid,"Youremembermynephew?HarryBluejay?Thepoet?HetradedhisBuickforyourWinnebago.Remember?"

           "Sure.Ididn’tknowhewasapoet."

           WhiskeyJackraisedhischinandlookedproud."BestdamnpoetinAmerica,"hesaid.

           Hedrainedtherestofhiscanofbeer,belched,andgotanothercan,whileShadowpoppedopenhisowncanofbeer,andthetwomensatoutsideonarock,bythepalegreenferns,inthemorningsun,andtheywatchedthefallingwaterandtheydranktheirbeer.Therewasstillsnowontheground,intheplaceswheretheshadowsneverlifted.

           Theearthwasmuddyandwet.