Chapter EighteenOn the other side of Route 6A, AKA Main Street, AKA Old King’s Highway, Wallace Hicks asked himself what in holy jehosophat he’d gone and done.
This wasn’t the first time he’d confronted that question. Early this morning, as his brain staggered into consciousness, Wally had realized his left arm was still asleep. Crushed under the weight of a warm body. The same body that was pressing against his chest and leg. Furless. Not Gromit, who wasn’t allowed in his bunk anyhow.
Last night came back in fragments. Him and Sue eating pizza at the picnic table behind the Frigate. Her chugging her Rolling Rock and magically producing an almost-full fifth of Wild Turkey. Him matching her with a joint the size of a Tiparillo. Stars tilting crazily through the branches of the mulberry tr
