Sublime

“Why don’t you write yourself?” she inquired in a letter. “I have a feeling you could write so much better than most of the people who do write.” Perkins delivered his response when they met next. She recalled, “Max just stared at me for a long time and said, ‘Because I’m an editor.’

Trout doesn’t really exist. He has been my alter ego in several of my other novels. But most of what I have chosen to preserve from Timequake One has to do with his adventures and opinions. I have salvaged a few of the thousands of stories he wrote between 1931, when he was fourteen, and 2001, when he died at the age of eighty-four.

“If you’re ever in Cody, Wyoming,” said Billy Pilgrim behind his white linen screens, “just ask for Wild Bob.”

Aardvark and Rabbit were embarrassed for their friend’s embarrassment, but they understood completely.

Face. Sponge Bob Shit Pants. “No?” said Platt casually, misreading