GLASS SOUP by Jonathan Carroll (funny books to read .txt) 📕

that there probably was no need for hidden tricks. If Vincent wanted to rejoin his family he only had to voluntarily give up life and he would meet them in death where they were no threat to Chaos.

Intently watching Vincent, Putnam looked for any sign of a decision one way or the other. For his part, Broximon stared daggers at Putnam while trying to think up a plan, an idea, anything at all to stop his new friend from melting down into a yes. Ettrich still stared at his hands and thought I have to do this. I’m going to do this. Yes, I’m going to say yes.

Preoccupied, none of them really noticed the kids slowly moving toward them from every direction in the park. There were six boys approaching, but a much larger bunch stood back and watched. Every one of them—boys and girls, seven-year-olds up until nineteen—were grinning and waiting for the big moment that could come at any time now. Until a short while ago, their day in the park had been the same old—same old hanging around on a summer’s day tedium. But then out of the blue this crazy thing had been dropped in their laps by a pretty pregnant stranger and now every one of them was lit up like sparklers.

After much arguing, the leaders of the group had carefully worked out who would do what. The two strongest boys were up front, followed by a second line of three others. Ten feet back the fastest runner in the group, a Turkish kid with the appropriate name Bulut, waited. There was nothing really for the girls to do but naturally all of the boys wanted them to witness everything that was about to happen. So the girls hung back, watching expectantly with wide eyes, chewed nails, and frayed nerves.

When the lead boys had closed to within a few feet of Putnam’s picnic table, they looked for the signal. The leader, standing nearby, gave it. The two strongest raced over to the table, grabbed Broximon beneath the armpits, jerked him roughly out of the Babby Basket on Vincent’s back and ran off with him. Bulut jumped from foot to foot like an adrenaline-cranked relay-race runner, waiting impatiently for the baton to arrive and be passed to him.

The whole time this was going on, Broximon was shouting, “Lemme go. Lemme down. It’s not funny! Let go!”

The boys ran with him dangling between them as if in some kind of strange three-legged race. On reaching Bulut, they handed Brox over. The bullet kid sped off across the park with the little man under his arm like they were both on fire.

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that Putnam and Ettrich weren’t even to their feet until Broximon had been passed to Bulut and they were racing away.

“Did you do this? What are you doing? Why?” Ettrich demanded of the old man.

For his part, Putnam was outraged. He was so livid that he couldn’t even speak to defend himself. Moments before the snatch, he had recognized the look on Ettrich’s face and knew that the man was going to cave in. Triumph was about to be his and then Putnam would truly be King of the Park having used only reason and cool. Why would he screw it up by pulling such a ridiculous useless prank? For some seconds after it happened he even thought Ettrich had done it to give himself more time. But how? How could he have pulled it off? They’d been together since entering the park. On the way in they had passed these kids but Ettrich didn’t stop or even want him to sic the crows on them when they made fun of Broximon. Putnam was so mad and flustered by this nutty, totally unexpected turn of events that it never once crossed his mind that Isabelle might have caused it. Yes, he had seen her walk away minutes before, but she was safely doomed to remain where she was and consequently no matter for concern. It did not dawn on him that with whatever knowledge and power she’d gained as a living person who’d experienced both life and death, Isabelle might be a formidable opponent.

Ettrich took off running across the park after Broximon. The man was fast; he could move. Putnam could only stand still and watch, sizzling inside. Kids everywhere around them were hooting and hollering at what had just happened; they were calling out to each other, slapping five and dancing victory jigs. It was the craziest greatest thing to happen to them in a long time. A pregnant woman appearing out of nowhere and offering them one hundred euros to grab the little guy and run away with him? Wahnsinn! It was bliss. They would talk about it for years.

Way on the other side of the park, near the entrance they’d used before, Bulut slowed, stopped, and gently put Broximon down.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” Brox asked in English.

The runner smiled at him, but was too out of breath to respond. A chubby teenage girl with big breasts held prisoner in a too tight T-shirt stepped forward and spoke to him in good but heavily accented English. “Isa-belle says you are to tell Vincent to say no. Do not go with Put-nam. She is here and she will come to you now.” The girl didn’t understand what she was saying but this was the message the woman had given her and she was determined to say it right.

Amazed, Broximon swallowed his fury at what had happened and asked her to repeat what she’d said. The girl did it slowly, proud of her English, carefully enunciating each word. Then she told him the other things the pregnant woman had told her to say. The girl knew the entire message was important. It had to be, because this woman had paid her boyfriend one hundred euros to kidnap the midget and once they were out of sight of the others, to tell