“chapter six In which Profane returns to street level Women had always happened to Profane the schlemihl like accidents: broken shoelaces, dropped dishes, pins in new shirts. Fina was no exception. Profane had figured at first that he was only the disembodied object of a corporal work of mercy. That, in the company of innumerable small and wounded animals, bums on the street, near-dying and lost to God, he was only another means to grace or indulgence for Fina. But as usual he was wrong. H...is first indication came with the cheerless celebration Angel and Geronimo staged following his first eight hours of alligator hunting. They had all been on a night shift, and got back to the Mendozas around 5 A.M. "Put on a suit," said Angel. "I don't have a suit," Profane said. They gave him one of Angel's. It was too small and he felt ridiculous. "All I want to do," he said, "really, is sleep." "Sleep in the daytime," Geronimo said, "ho-ho.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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