Free Marvel and a Wonder by Joe Meno Page A

used to have fun when we were kids. Now he takes himself too seriously. Which is a problem if you don’t happen to think he’s kingshit of everything.”
    Quentin nodded then, though he did not know why.
    “Hey,” Gilby said, remembering something. “We’re trying to get rid of that old reticulated python back there. He’s an albino . . . Nobody wants an albino. They all want the tiger kind now. You got any interest in it?”
    Quentin shrugged his shoulders and took a few steps down the aisle toward the glass tank. The python was fearsome-looking, long—almost a dozen feet, and curled up on itself in round, lazy loops. Its skin was a creamy white, with pale yellow and gray markings, its arrow-shaped head a yellow brighter than any kind of tropical flower.
    “We tried to feed him a live rat but he wouldn’t touch it. We had to take the rat out because we were afraid it would scratch him up. I wanted to leave it in there and take bets but Mr. Peel said the snake wasn’t worth anything to us dead.”
    Quentin tapped the glass. “He looks bored. You ever take him out at all?”
    “Nope. He tried to bite me last time I did that. He’s got an attitude problem. He thinks he’s better than everyone else.” Gilby tapped the glass once, then again, the snake flicking its tongue in response. “But he ain’t. He’s the wrong color and so he ain’t shit.”
    Quentin squinted a little. “What’s this?” he asked, staring at another glass tank. “When these come in?”
    “Those are Chinese water dragons. They came in a couple days ago. They’re like iguanas pretty much. Except they like living in the water. Supposed to change their water every day because they shit in it and then try to drink it.”
    “They’re terrific.”
    “They’re all right.”
    “You got a pair?” the boy asked.
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “I dunno.”
    “You thinking of breeding them?”
    Quentin nodded, pressing his hand up against the glass. “How much are they going for?”
    “For the pair is thirty.”
    “Thirty?”
    “It’s an investment. You going to make money off them. As soon as you get some young ones, you can sell ’em back to Mr. Peel. The folks we bought them from said you can play this one cassette tape with Chinese music and then they’ll start breeding like crazy. You get the pair and I’m sure Mr. Peel will throw in that cassette tape too. Easy money.”
    Quentin nodded once more, tapping the glass carefully with his fingertip, making as if he was touching the ridged neck and bumpy skin of the creature on the other side. “I’m gonna buy them. As soon as I save up enough. How long have they been here for?”
    “A couple days. But Bobby Dare supposed to come in next weekend. He’s going to a trade show in Ohio and he usually cleans us out.”
    Quentin tapped against the aquarium glass again and turned, glancing down at his watch. “I got to go. I’ll be back Monday. Or Tuesday. Don’t sell them until then if you can.”
    Gilby nodded, once more returning to his spot behind the small glass counter. He stared down at the unfolded magazine. The boy gave the glass door a shove and stepped back outside into the distant glare of the sun.
    * * *
    Cocksucker was back in town. Mount Holly. There he was. On the go. A shadow in Mount Holly’s town square, the only shadow. It crossed over the birds on the bench. An omen, a bad cloud, scaring them all off. Flap-flap-flap. The dusty feathers, in summer, bird snow, made him cough. Lungs like asbestos, hack-hack-hack. He made his way past the feed store, trying not to have a coughing fit. Inside the feed store, civilians gathered around the counter, talking irrigation and drainage. Hayseeds in overalls. Mud on their boots. Not for him. Stopping at the corner now. Spitting at the side of the mailbox, taking his time to get the phlegm up, making a regular show of it. What came up was translucent and a little yellow, tinged with some pinkish blood. It was the consequence of