Suckers - J.A. Konrath

"What does he talk to himself about?"
"I don’t know. I can’t read lips. But he’s done it the past couple of nights. He’s quaint."
"I’d like to see that," I said. "I’ve never watched a psycho killer rant before."
"Well, what are you doing this weekend?" Roger asked.
I shrugged. "Watching TV."
"Anything good on?"
"Does it matter?"
"If you wanted to come over, we could watch TV and my neighbor."
"Sure. Sounds like fun."
* * *
"How did your skit go?" asked my dad as I walked into the living room.
"That was last week."
"Well, how did it go?"
"Pretty good."
"What was it about again?"
"Shakespeare."
"Oh, yeah. That’s right."
"Hey, can I spend the night at a friend’s house tonight?" I asked.
"Which friend?"
"Roger. He just moved here."
"Is he a miscreant?"
"No."
"Did you take out the garbage this morning like you were supposed to?"
I hesitated. "Part of it."
My father sighed. "You really need to get out of the habit of lying, son. Guilt doesn’t make a
very fluffy pillow."
"I don’t even know what that means."
"Someday you’ll understand. Yeah, you can spend the night, but do the dishes first."
I peeked into the kitchen. "There aren’t any dishes."
"Then clean your room."
"I haven’t messed it up since mom cleaned it yesterday."
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