Chapter XX
The Garbage Men
“I cannot believe that I am in New Queens on a Saturday afternoon!” R.J. the Third complained to Champ as they walked up the cracked, neglected and noisome street. “I would not be surprised to learn that Architect is protesting my presence here by brutally knocking his head against a pillow. A firm pillow.”
“It’s that one, right?” asked the garbage man, pointing to a huge gray and blue building that looked like it belonged in a post-apocalyptic world where the only available protein was human flesh. (The only other time that he had seen the edifice was during the clandestine mannequin dropoff, which had occurred four nights earlier.)
“Yes, that is his lair.”
The garbage man, clothed in jeans and a t-shirt that read The messiah is here. Right here., and the p
