I got so absorbed in The Radleys that I almost forgot about the suffering my mother has inflicted on LBHQ. Dry weekdays are an evil idea, and as I watched her drinking ginless tonic water tonight, I felt very much like a Radley. No matter how many weeks we endure dry weekdays, the thirst will remain.
Normally I wouldn’t get my paws on a book like The Radleys. The literary snobs here tend to give post-Stoker vampire fiction a wide berth, but this book is sublime…this book kicks the whole genre’s ass. Still, usually I avoid freaky stuff. As you may recall, there’s already a superfluity of paranormal shit at LBHQ. When you cohabit a place with characters like Fluffy, Scarybear, and Carnivorous Duck (who maintains he devoured Glen Bear)—you don’t need to sit under a blanket with a scary book and a flashlight under your chin. Every day is filled with terror already.
And dry weekdays are a part of it.