Thousand: Four Hundred Sixty-Six

here in the rafters? Bernie wonders. As the cowboy pulls the orange apart, its white-skinned sections occasionally spurting fragrant juice, Bernie feels the table draw closer and closer until he is once more looking into Darn’s gray eyes. He is so grateful not to be lost in the rafters with that hideous leprechaun that, instead of taking an offered piece with his hand, Bernie opens his mouth. Like a baby. And Darn slides it in, pushing the section of orange gently into place on Bernie’s tongue. Bernie bites and the juice floods his mouth. He remembers the angel stepping on