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“They have a lot of movies in Carthage?”
“No, stupid,” she says. “We find them here sometimes. Some of the truckers have players.”
Hellions bootleg movies. They steal cable, so why not?
“What’s your favorite?” I say.
Together, the twins say, “The Red Shoes.”
“What’s his?”
Gisco signs something.
“Spartacus,” says one of the twins.
“I agree. Those are my two favorites, too.”
“Oh God, a diplomat,” says Wanuri.
“Or he’s trying to get into someone’s trousers,” says Frederickson. He looks from the twins to Gisco to me. “The question is whose.”
“How do you know it’s not yours?” says PTA Mom.
Frederickson shifts in his seat so his ass is aimed in my direction, and lets rip with a tremendous fart.
“That’s what I think of that idea.”
I point at him.
“He’s your fucking diplomat.”
He laughs.
I look at Daja.
“I don’t suppose there’s a special, secret toilet reserved for us, is there?”
She waves an arm at the horizon.
“It’s the Tenebrae. Nothing but toilet for as far as the eye can see.”
I get up.
“In that case, I’m going to take a walk and defile this little slice of Heaven.”
Wanuri says, “Careful. There’s sandworms out there. They’ll swim right up your ass.”
“Don’t worry. I had a buzz saw installed. My ass can chop wood.”
“I’ll remember not to let you sit on my lap.”
“But you said you’d tell me a bedtime story.”
“That’s your Heaven, but my Hell. Next lifetime, Suzie Q.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
I head out well past the edge of the camp and piss in the direction of hills spiked like upturned knives.
