Liar by Rob Roberge

Author:Rob Roberge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2016-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

1977: In fourth-grade science class, where you are Nicole’s “science buddy,” there are two white rats named Starsky and Hutch. You will never remember what they were for—probably some horrible tests a fourth grader should never be allowed to perform. You will wonder if she ever told you, though you will remember for years the two of you holding one rat each and then putting them back on urine-soaked wood chips in their filthy cage. After you put them back, it is another pair’s turn to hold them. You have no idea what happened to those rats. Were they still alive that last day of school, June 23, the day after Nicole’s murder, the day of cop cars escorting all the school buses, the day very little tends to get done anyway but the day you will only ever remember as the day you heard about the murder on the radio. You will remember the cop car. You remember her empty seat. You remember the science teacher, Mr. Karr, openly weeping. You will remember the school’s floors already buffed and shined, ready for summer break.

—

2013: Scientists estimate that human language will survive human beings for only two to three generations of parrots. The last human words ever spoken will not be spoken by people but probably by a third-generation parrot following the extinction of human beings. Many linguists identify “becos,” meaning “bread,” as the first word spoken by the human race. No one will know what the last word will be. But we know it will happen thirty to fifty years after we are gone.

—

1981: You are at a keg party at some rich kid’s house when his parents are out of town. You know his parents. You wait on them at the country club on the other side of town. His father treats you like shit.

After breaking a lamp in the master bedroom, you steal a handful of pills from his parents’ bathroom—you have no idea what they are, so you start with only two, a responsible and moderate decision—a blue one and an orange-ish one you will come to know well. Valium. In the living room, someone hands you a guitar. You play the intro to the Who’s “Substitute.” It’s a three-chord intro, and you play it twice and Karen Lewis starts making out with you. You’re in the school band together and you’ve had a crush on her since the start of the year, although she’s never seemed to notice you before this.

In band, you play the oboe. No one has ever, not once, made out with you after you played the oboe for fifteen seconds. Guitar players, you realize, don’t have to talk much. They can play someone else’s music and sing someone else’s song and everyone acts like they’ve created something. Karen Lewis grabs your crotch hard through your jeans while biting your lower lip. You wonder why anyone plays the fucking oboe.

—

1990: You read an interview with a dominatrix in one of Broke Dan’s underground zines.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.