“Did the tigers run all around that tree?”
“I thought they’d never stop. I never saw so many tigers.” “There were only six,” Sybil said.
“Only six!” said the young man. “Do you call that only?”
“Do you like wax?” Sybil asked.
“Do I like what?” asked the young man. “Wax.”
“Very much. Don’t you?”
Sybil nodded. “Do you like olives?” she asked.
“Olives–yes. Olives and wax. I never go anyplace without ’em.” “Do you like Sharon Lipschutz?” Sybil asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” said the young man. “What I like particularly about her is that she never does anything mean to little dogs in the lobby of the hotel. That little toy bull that belongs to that lady from Canada, for instance. You probably won’t believe this, but some little girls like to poke that little dog with balloon sticks. Sharon doesn’t. She’s never mean or unkind. That’s why I like her so much.”
Sybil was silent.
“I like to chew candles,” she said finally.
Freelance writer. Trail runner. Relentless savage.