Page 24 - Ferry Tales

Nestor

Yes, I know it’s insulting, Cerberus: but only a child would be
foolish enough to try to pet you. That one checked out suddenly
when the shoddily-constructed safety device in a recklessly driven
motorcar exploded in her face; next thing she knows she’s hiking
down a path to the river.
“All aboard,” I say. That’s a joke, you see, because I only take one
passenger at a time. Eh? She didn’t get it, either, did little Altricia
Nestor. Died before she ever took a train ride. Well, I had to get her
on the ferry as a paying customer.
“My mommy said never go anywhere with strange men.”
You know how patient I am, you broadcaster of doggy breath.
That reminds me: did you ever try three-part growling? Maybe you
have some latent singing ability. All I ever hear is the same yapping
and yowling coming out of your mouths. You do have separate
brains in each of those heads, right?
Anyway, I say to her, “That’s all right, then. I’m not strange, and
I’m not a man. Now give me those pennies, Nestor, and let’s get
moving.”
“Where are we going?” She asks after I pole out against the
current.
“Based on what little I know,” says I, “you’re headed for the
Devil’s picnic. If you had taken your father’s assault rifle off the gun
rack in his den and assassinated your entire family, then I’d expect a
different destination. But no: you’ll have to sit forever on a terribly
itchy cloth out in the blazing sun while the plagues of Egypt rain
down upon you. Nothing to eat but deviled eggs in unbearably hot
sauce, devil’s food cake too sweet to swallow, all washed down with
demon rum. Maybe pin the scorpion on the sinner, or one-legged
races—if you’re eligible for amputation. Then there’s the greased
wildcat wrestling and porcupine tease. It’ll be a real nightmare.”
“That sounds terrible. Why do I have to go?”

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