Page 67 of Nightcrawler
The mime in question is named Francois and is portrayed in an oddly sympathetic way from the firstlines of the book. He is starving, trying to pursue his profession of mime to make money, but constantly gets pummeled with rotten fruit while working. Angry and confused, he wanders the streets, taking out his rage by committing murder. The crimes share an ever-increasing viciousness which vomits out onto the page, leaving the reader confused and nauseous.
The only thing—and I say this with all seriousness—I liked about this book, was a side character, Marie, who is a prostitute who takes Francois in and cleans the filthy white makeup off his face before helping him reapply it. It was almost sweet how she tried to make him see the error of his ways as he describes how guilty he feels about what he’s doing. But I was left wondering if it was true remorse or just his way of keeping Marie close when he knows he’s being pursued by a police inspector who has made it a priority to catch the killer.
I will warn potential readers here that the book is depressing as hell, so only if you’re contemplating suicide and have been on the fence about it for a while, would I suggest you read it, thus my negative five-star rating, a new low…even for me. Honestly, every book ever written is better than this, so only if you hate yourself, should you pick up Mime and Punishment.
Raven came in as I was washing the last of the pans we’d use to cook the shrimp. He’d cooked it perfectly, just until it turned pink so that his nana could chew it thoroughly before trying to swallow. He’d told me she had trouble sometimes, and I’d seen him watching her like a hawk every time she took a bite. She hadn’t eaten any of the chicken, which I suspected was for her own safety.
“Hey,” Raven said, sliding his arms around me and kissing my ear. I liked the fact that he was almost as tall as me. We fit together very well. “Sorry I wasn’t here to help clean up. I really wanted to spend a little time with her. I guess Ned’s comment that I ignored her cut deeper than I’d first thought.”
I leaned into his kiss as it trailed down my neck. “You know he’s a piece of shit and I never want you to think of him again. Cassidy and Mike did an awesome job in finding out the truth about him.”
“I agree.” He paused and kissed my ear. “I read my nana the latest review. She likes them.” He laughed softly.
“Raisin in my Bum?” I asked, grinning. “Yeah, that was a classic.” I set the pan in the dishrack, dried my hands, and turned in his arms, returning his hug. “I don’t know how you come up with this stuff, Raven, or how the hell you find the books you do. There has to be a secret to finding the world’s worst stories.”
He laughed. “It’s no secret. A while back, I found a blog which listed some and then another blog and another. It’s surprising how many blogs post about comically terrible books. So, now, all I have to do is email an author and a lot of the time, they send me a paperback.”
That surprised me. “Do you tell them who you are? Do you actually tell them that you review under the name Nightcrawler on Bestreads?”
“Hell yeah. They love it,” he said with a grin. “And a lot of authors contact me directly, offering to send me their book. Most of them aren’t complete idiots and they expect low star ratings, so as long as I promise to review it on my Bestreads blog injecting humor, they send me copies. A lot of these authorsbragabout having a book which is being featured on Bestreads. It’s gotten me a huge number of followers.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How many followers do you have?”
He looked up at the ceiling as he thought for a few seconds. When he glanced back down, he looked like a guilty little boy. I wanted to laugh because his expression was priceless. “The last time I checked, I had close to two-hundred thousand.”
I was speechless for a few seconds before blurting, “Two-hundredthousandfollowers?” I let go of him and stepped back, bumping into the sink. “Are you shitting me?” I ran my fingers through my hair.
He grinned, shaking his head. “No.”
“No wonder authors send you books. Your reviews, good or bad, give them free advertising.”
He nodded, wearing a tiny smile. “It does, and authors have told me that when I add in the humor, it actually boosts their sales…so it’s not so bad for them.”
“Huh…a win-win. Interesting.”
He nodded and reached down to take my hand. “Now, I think it’s time to spend a little more horizontal time together.”
That sounded like a great idea to me.
“Let me grab some clothes from the boxes in the garage,” I said. “It’ll only take a second.”
“I’ll help.”
After opening a couple of boxes, I found my clothes and pulled out a clean pair of jeans as well as a pair of black cargo pants, and several tees and pairs of socks. He kept digging and when I asked him what for, he just grinned.
“I was looking for underwear.” He straightened. “I…ah…forgot for a second that you enjoy chafing.”
I huffed. “For your information, I don’t chafe.”
“It’s no wonder, what with that bush you have down there.” He pointed at my zipper.
I laughed, covering the obvious bulge in my jeans. “I keep them minimally trimmed but then again, you’re hairless all over. I don’t think you have a single pubic hair.”
He laughed. “I have them.” He was indignant. “I just trim them up niiice and smooth. It makes my dick look bigger anyway.” He glanced down at my groin as I chuckled.
“Trust me, there’s no need to do that. Your…assets…are plenty ‘big.’”
“I guess you don’t have the whole trimming your pubes to make your ‘assets’ bigger problem, do you?” Raven asked.