THE THREE STIGMATA OF PALMER ELDRITCH by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick [Dick, Philip K.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: archivio inglese, cover, english
ISBN: 9780575075818
Publisher: Gollancz
Published: 2012-02-07T10:57:28+00:00

9

"Hey, Donna, man," he said. "Do you like cats?"

She blinked, red-eyed. "Dripping little things. Moving along about a foot above the ground."

"Above, no, _on_ the ground."

"Drippy. Behind furniture."

"Little spring flowers, then," he said.

"Yes," she said. "I can dig it--little spring flowers, with yellow in them. That first come up."

"Before," he said. "Before anyone."

"Yes." She nodded, eyes shut, off in her trip. "Before anyone stomps them, and they're--gone."

"You know me," he said. "You can read me."

She lay back, setting down the hash pipe. It had gone out. "No more," she said, and her smile slowly dwindled away.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Nothing." She shook her head and that was all.

"Can I put my arms around you?" he said. "I want to hold you. Okay? Hug you, like. Okay?"

Her dark, enlarged, unfocused weary eyes opened. "No," she said. "No, you're too ugly."

"What?" he said.

"No!" she said, sharply now. "I snort a lot of coke; I have to be super careful because I snort a lot of coke."

"_Ugly!_" he echoed, furious at her. "Fuck you, Donna."

"Just leave my body alone," she said, staring at him.

"Sure," he said. "Sure." He got to his feet and backed away. "You better believe it." He felt like going out to his car, getting his pistol from the glove compartment, and shooting her face off, bursting her skull and eyes to bits. And then that passed, that hash hate and fury. "Fuck it," he said dismally.

"I don't like people to grope my body," Donna said. "I have to watch out for that because I do so much coke. Someday I have it planned I'm going over the Canadian border with four pounds of coke in it, in my snatch. I'll say I'm a Catholic and a virgin. Where are you going?" Alarm had her now; she half rose.

"I'm taking off," he said.

"Your car is at your place. I drove you." The girl struggled up, tousled and confused and half asleep, wandered toward the closet to get her leather jacket. "I'll drive you back. But you can see why I have to protect my snatch. Four pounds of coke is worth--"

"No fucking way," he said. "You're too stoned to drive ten feet, and you never fucking let anybody else drive that little roller skate of yours."

Facing him, she yelled wildly, "That's because nobody else can fucking drive my car! Nobody else even gets it right, no man especially! Driving on anything else! You had your hands down into my--"

And then he was somewhere outside in the darkness, roaming, without his coat, in a strange part of town. Nobody with him. Fucking alone, he thought, and then he heard Donna hurrying along after him, trying to catch up with him, panting for breath, because she did so much pot and hash these days that her lungs were half silted up with resins. He halted, stood without turning, waiting, feeling really down. Approaching him, Donna slowed, panted, "I am dreadfully sorry I've hurt your feelings. By what I said. I was out of it.

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