Tinyman 2004  

It was dawn. A bird had landed on the balcony and chirped loudly. Tinyman awoke in the chair with a bad headache.

Tinyman was having brunch with the cabal. There was a fireplace with a fire, and a buffet with an entire salmon surrounded by exquisite dishes. Tinyman ate cornflakes. He sat next to Mr. Grey, who was studying him. Mr. Grey was a man about whom Tinyman knew very little. But Werd knew him. Werd knew that he had been involved with the CIA since the Vietnam war, although his name seldom appeared. Nobody knew his real name.

Mr. Grey studied Tinyman, while Tinyman ate spoonfuls of corn flakes.

Mr. Blue stood by the door, his wireless radio plugged into his ear, his sunglasses flickering in the light from the fireplace.

"You're perfect." Mr. Grey said.

Werd had told Tinyman that Mr. Grey was a natural killer, a reserved and distinguished psychopath who dealt fearlessly with Nazi-trained butchers and mad dog Central American dictators on a daily basis. Mr. Grey scared Tinyman.

Tinyman, Tinyman, run home, wee wee wee.

The cabal could have chosen to let him alone, but instead they insisted on meeting like this, like a family, one Sunday a month.

Oh no, fading in then fading out then fading in then fading out then fading in. Ineffectual aggregates obfuscated Werd's acclimatization.

Finally Mr. Grey took a quail from his plate and he cracked the wing off. And put it in his mouth never taking his eyes off Tinyman the while. Time wriggled its pincers.

Tinyman felt awful. He imagined himself saying to Werd, in a voice that sounded very far away, his ears filled with the mastication of his corn flakes:

"I want to get out, Werd. I don't know why these people chose me or what they have planned for me. There must be some way to throw the race. There must be. Must. Be."

Werd turned his gaze inward. "If I were a bookie," he wondered, "I'd capitalize on this. But to throw an election, one that's being handled from the very beginning, one that may in fact be entirely rigged, is a difficult matter."

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SB