Faith of the Divine Inferno - Leslie Thompson (best short novels of all time TXT) 📗

because I couldn’t die. The Supreme Court quickly agreed (although more than one judge wanted to pester me with questions about my personal history) and they forbade any agency, both government and private, from bothering me with the intent of learning my secret to immortality.
After I sued three news outlets for everything they’ve got, the media found someone else to stalk. Shortly afterwards, the Department of Immigration discovered that I’d come to the United States illegally a hundred and eighty-four years ago and they came calling. My lawyers are currently in negotiations with the Justice Department in an attempt to convince them to grant me full citizenship. If they fail, they’ll ship me back to Hungary. If they win, I’ll have to pay an ass-load in back taxes for all the years I’ve lived in the country. I’m not sure which way I want it to go. I’m left alone for the most part, but I do have to beat the crap out of the occasional foreign or domestic agent that sneaks into my house at night to get tissue samples.
I did manage to get Shaw into my bed and get things done right. No, I won’t give any more details. My mother told me that only whores brag about their men, and I haven’t been paid for sex in centuries. I’ll simply say that a good time was had by all, and he sleeps over more often than not. Shaw still hasn’t told me that he loves me or even acknowledged that I had screamed it at him first. He seems happy to let the issue lie and gives me a wary look every time I try to bring it up. I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter in the end; Shaw’s mortality guarantees that I’ll get screwed no matter how things turn out.
I haven’t seen my father or Mabel yet, but sometimes when I come home from a night out or a long trip, I’ll find that the dishes in my cupboard have been moved or a dead possum in my sink. The dishes were all Mabel. As vicious as she was, she was still a child and would pull petty tricks until she figured out something better. However, the gifts of dead animals had my father’s stink all over them.
I got the message the dead possums were meant to convey. He knew where I lived, and he could come and get me any time he wanted. That was fine with me. The man had haunted me for centuries, and I had been running from him and his memory long enough. I began a routine of checking my weapons every day and making sure I had a plan for every possibility. I would be ready when the day arrived and I would finally be rid of that son-of-a-bitch. It didn’t matter that he was already dead; even a zombie knew that the thing my father had become could still be destroyed if I chopped him into enough pieces and set him on fire.
All I have to do was wait, and I can wait a very long time.
Imprint

Publication Date: 01-14-2011

All Rights Reserved