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Cross, Amanda Kate Fansler 09 Der Sturz aus dem Fenster
[heft] Perry Rhodan 0058 Attacke aus dem Unsichtbaren id
[heft] Perry Rhodan 1249 Auf dem Weg zum Licht
Clarke, Richard A. World Wide Angriff aus dem Internet
Atherton, Nancy Tante Dimity Die Jagd nach dem Vampir
[heft] Perry Rhodan 0629 Duell mit dem Ceynach
[heft] Perry Rhodan 0809 Mensch aus dem Nichts
[heft] Perry Rhodan 0128 Morder aus dem Hyperraum
Baader, Bernhard Volkssagen aus dem Lande Baden
[heft] Perry Rhodan 2366 Unter dem Kristallgitter

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.Raging hormones.Those difficult adolescent years.More difficult, I imagined, for me than for her.“Why don’t I meet you in the music aisle.Pick out a new CD and we’ll add it to the pile.”Her face lit up.“Really?”“Sure.Why not?” Yes, yes, don’t even say it.I know “why not.” Setting a bad precedent, not defining limits, blah, blah, blah.Throw all that psycho mumbo jumbo at me when you’re wandering Wal-Mart with two kids and a list of errands as long as your arm.If I can buy a day’s worth of cooperation for $14.99, then that’s a deal I’m jumping all over.I’ll worry about the consequences in therapy, thank you very much.I caught another whiff of nastiness right before we hit the restrooms.Out of habit, I looked around.A feeble old man squinted at me from over the Wal-Mart Sunday insert, but other than him, there was nobody around but me and Timmy.“P.U.,” Timmy said, then flashed a toothy grin.I smiled as I parked the shopping cart outside of the ladies’ room.“P.U.” was his newest favorite word, followed in close second by “Oh, man!” The “Oh, man!” I can blame on Nickelodeon and Dora the Explorer.For the other, I lay exclusive blame on my husband, who has never been keen on changing dirty diapers and has managed, I’m convinced, over the short term of Timmy’s life, to give the kid a complete and utter complex about bowel movements.“You’re P.U.,” I said, hoisting him onto the little drop-down changing table.“But not for long.We’ll clean you up, powder that bottom, and slap on a new diaper.You’re gonna come out smelling like a rose, kid.”“Like a rose!” he mimicked, reaching for my earrings while I held him down and stripped him.After a million wipes and one fresh diaper, Timmy was back in the shopping cart.We fetched Allie away from a display of newly released CDs, and she came more or less willingly, a Natalie Imbruglia CD clutched in her hand.Ten minutes and eighty-seven dollars later I was strapping Timmy into his car seat while Allie loaded our bags into the minivan.As I was maneuvering through the parking lot, I caught one more glimpse of the old man I’d seen earlier.He was standing at the front of the store, between the Coke machines and the plastic kiddie pools, just staring out toward me.I pulled over.My plan was to pop out, say a word or two to him, take a good long whiff of his breath, and then be on my way.I had my door half open when music started blasting from all six of the Odyssey’s speakers at something close to one hundred decibels.I jumped, whipping around to face Allie, who was already fumbling for the volume control and muttering, “Sorry, sorry.”I pushed the power button, which ended the Natalie Imbruglia surround-sound serenade, but did nothing about Timmy, who was now bawling his eyes out, probably from the pain associated with burst eardrums.I shot Allie a stern look, unfastened my seat belt, and climbed into the backseat, all the while trying to make happy sounds that would calm my kid.“I’m sorry, Mom,” Allie said.To her credit she sounded sincere.“I didn’t know the volume was up that high.” She maneuvered into the backseat on the other side of Timmy and started playing peekaboo with Boo Bear, a bedraggled blue bear that’s been Timmy’s constant companion since he was five months old.At first Timmy ignored her, but after a while he joined in, and I felt a little surge of pride for my daughter.“Good for you,” I said.She shrugged and kissed her brother’s forehead.I remembered the old man and reached for the door, but as I looked out at the sidewalk, I saw that he was gone.“What’s wrong?” Allie asked.I hadn’t realized I was frowning, so I forced a smile and concentrated on erasing the worry lines from my forehead.“Nothing,” I said.And then, since that was the truth, I repeated myself, “Nothing at all.”For the next three hours we bounced from store to store as I went down my list for the day: bulk goods at Wal-Mart—check; shoes for Timmy at Payless—check; Happy Meal for Timmy to ward off crankiness—check; new shoes for Allie from DSW—check; new ties for Stuart from T.J.Maxx—check.By the time we hit the grocery store, the Happy Meal had worn off, both Timmy and Allie were cranky, and I wasn’t far behind.Mostly, though, I was distracted.That old man was still on my mind, and I was irritated with myself for not letting the whole thing drop.But something about him bugged me.As I pushed the shopping cart down the dairy aisle, I told myself I was being paranoid.For one thing, demons tend not to infect the old or feeble.(Makes sense when you think about it; if you’re going to suddenly become corporeal, you might as well shoot for young, strong, and virile.) For another, I’m pretty sure there’d been no demon stench, just a particularly pungent toddler diaper.Of course, that didn’t necessarily rule out demon proximity [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]