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e black wonder of that
brightly flaming deathflight. Then someone howled. Others screamed. And from
somewhere in the back I could hear my son crying.
A hand grabbed me. it was Bud Brown. His eyes were bulging from their sockets. His lips
were drawn back from his false teeth in a snarl. "One of those other things he said
and
pointed.
One of the bugs bad come in through the hole and it now. perched on a lawn-food bag
housefly wings buzzing-you could hear them; it sounded like a cheap department- store
electric fan-eyes bulging from their stalks. its pink and noxiously plump body was
aspirating rapidly.
I moved toward it. My torch was guttering but not yet out. But Mrs. Reppler
the third-
grade teacher
beat me to it. She was maybe fifty-five
maybe sixty
rope-thin. Her body
had a tough
dried-out look that always makes me think of beef jerky.
She had a can of Raid in each hand like some crazy gunslinger in an existential comedy.
She uttered a snarl of anger that would have done credit to a caveman splitting the skull
of an enemy. Holding the pressure cans out at the full length of each arm
she pressed
the buttons. A thick spray of insect-killer coated,ugg bags on saleyilai：
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