Hastur Page 6

    "Wow. That's fucked up." Quoth Fair Harrington.
    They passed a road sign that said Nogales 178 miles.
    Already tired of the confinement of the car and the duration of the trip (they'd gone 14 miles) Fair began to brood a bit inside of himself, then blurted, "So what are we going to do until we get to Nogales? One hundred seventy-eight miles is a long ways away man, and I'm feeling antsy. Like, really fucking antsy."
    "Well, listen to this," said the elder and wiser Schlitz, "I've got just the thing for a fellow like you who is tweaking hard for the first time. It's a game, kind of like something you might have played when you were a kid, only it's that you're playing it now as an adult. On hard narcotics.

Just trust me, it'll make the time go by faster, or less slow or something."
    "So what is it, man? I'm about to jump out of my skin here, man."
    "You'll know it right away. It's that game where you look at cars' license plate numbers."
    "Oh fuck you, man. Fuck you that sucks."
   "Yeah. I'll tell you when I see a state, and you write it down. And also write it down when you've seen a state."
    "What the fuck ever."
    "But you can't duplicate states. You can only write down each state once. I've already seen --"
    Thurgood stopped mid-sentence. A garbage truck had just passed them at top speed. Hanging out of the ass end of it, for Christ's sake -- it was a human leg! It appeared to be lifeless