6/21/17
“Why are we here?”
“The grocery store? Believe me, August, if I could just fly around sucking souls like you I totally would. But I can’t, so food.” He looked at me in disgust. I think he thinks I’m joking when I say I wish I could fly around and feed on souls, but I'm not. I tell myself I’d be a vigilante ghost, cleaning up the world one bad guy soul at a time, but I don’t know. Maybe I’d just eat who
I liked.
“It’s so bright in there. And the music is noisome. Can I stay in the car?” August sat in the passenger seat with his hands braced against the dash. Despite being dead, he’s having a hard time getting used to cars.
“Can you?”
“No,” he dropped his head against the dash. It made a soft thud.
“Wow, that was actually kind of loud.”
“Will and intention, will and intention. What did we draw today?”
“Father of swords.”
“I balk at that, you know why?”
“Why?
“Because if there were any justice in the world, I would be in a casket next to Evelyn right now instead of here.”
“Who’s to say you falling off the cliff wasn’t just? How do you know it wasn’t a punishment?” I pulled the keys out of the ignition and reached into the back seat for my reusable bags. August sat still, staring out the window through his shaggy green hair.
“Bollocks. Now I have to sift through the puzzle in my head for wrongs that might require atonement.” He threw his head back and phased through the car door, “And I was going to relax today.”
August is the worst to shop with. He picks up everything and does his best to get me in trouble. He's like a bored toddler, but one with no consequences for his mischief. When I told him I wasn’t buying marshmallows just because he liked the look of them, he threw a jar of pigs’ feet at me. I didn’t catch it and it shattered. Pale, wrinkly little pigs’ feet went skittering all over the floor, it was so embarrassing. And the pickling liquid got on my shoes. They still stink.