The Book Catapult

117 Days of James Patterson – Day Twenty-Five

Day 25, Chapter 25
Let’s start Day 25 with the opening sequence to the chapter – Pete Gordon, the WCF murderer, at home in his kitchen:

Pete Gordon was standing in the kitchen, whipping up some instant mashed potatoes on the stove while watching the baseball game on the undercabinet TV, when his wife came through the door.
“Whatcha burning?” she asked.
“Listen, princess, I don’t need your frickin’ cooking tips, and now you made me miss that pitch.”

Nice. I was needing a good “frickin'” for my Sunday morning. By the way, Urban Dictionary claims that “Frickin'” is “a Southern or Midwestern slang word used to express excitement or distainment without using profanity.” It’s also used as “an alternative for those of us too classy to use the word ‘fucking'”. Just keep that in mind.

“Sorry Mr. Cranky. I’m just saying you could save that if you put a little milk in it and turned down the flame.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Pete said, switching off the gas, scraping the potatoes into a bowl. “You just can’t let me have a single simple pleasure, can you?”

Alright, I know the point here is to show the reader that Pete Gordon is an unstable potential serial killer, but even his wife’s not buying his tough guy act. While he screams at the baseball game on TV and burns his mouth on the potatoes, she tells him that her aunt wants to take their family out to dinner the following night.

“Yippee. Sounds like fun. Your fat-assed aunt and all of us around a table at the Olive Garden.”

O-o-o-o-o-o-h! Her reaction? She turns off his television, takes the remote away, and puts it in the garbage disposal. “Oh snap”, as they say.

“Go to hell, Petey,” she said as the machine gnawed on the plastic. “No, I really mean it.” Pete shut off the grinder and watching his fucking wife flounce out of the room.

No frickin’ way: an F-bomb? Now I know Pete’s unstable! That is quality writing right there – leaving no doubt that Pete is a force to be frickin’ reckoned with.

He was going to get her.
He was going to get her and Sherry and the stink bomb one day really soon.
WCF, people. Wait for it.

I will wait for it – I’ve got nowhere else to be.
Go to Day 26.

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4 comments on “117 Days of James Patterson – Day Twenty-Five

  1. Amy
    May 24, 2010

    What?! A real f-bomb?! I'm shocked!

  2. Nate
    May 24, 2010

    I'm bummed I'm now caught up. Then again, I need a break for my nausea to subside. Keep up the good work.

  3. aaryn b.
    May 25, 2010

    I can never shut off my inner-editor:

    “Sorry Mr. Cranky. I'm just saying you could save that if you put a little milk in it and turned down the flame.” Pete's wife walked to the stove and turned off the burner. She then began to unbutton her red-and-grey plaid Gap shirt, the one she'd bought with her first paycheck since having returned to work following maternity leave, the one she bought along with three others (and a purple shawl) that she never mentioned to Pete. Her breasts were engorged and her nipples were raw from where Pete's baby daughter was sucking her dry. Frick him, she thought. Just, frickin' frick him. She opened the shirt, pulled the left cup of her nursing bra to the side with one hand and lifted her gigantic breast with the other. She leaned toward the stove and pointed her red, scabbed nipple into the pot. Then she squeezed some breast milk into Pete's potatoes. That oughta learn the little fricker, she thought.

  4. Seth Marko
    May 26, 2010

    Ho. Lee. Shit.
    Aaryn Befler just disappeared into the frickin' deep end, everybody.

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This entry was posted on May 23, 2010 by in 117 Days of James Patterson.
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