By Philip K. Dick
Confessions of a Crap Artist is considered one of Philip ok. Dick's most eldritch and so much finished novels. Jack Isidore is a crap artist -- a collector of crackpot principles (among different issues, he believes that the earth is hallow and that sun has weight) and valueless gadgets, a guy so grossly unequipped for genuine lifestyles that his sister and brother-in-law consider forced to rescue him from it. yet noticeable via Jack's murderously blameless gaze, Charlie and Juddy Hume turn out to be simply as sealed off from truth, in thrall to obsessions which are just a little extra applicable than Jack's, yet very much uglier.
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Extra info for Confessions of a Crap Artist
My watchdogs could see me, but I had a little bit of freedom of movement if I kept it subtle. Out of my peripheral vision I saw the Nose and one of the other guys—a blond surfer-looking dude—circling the access road in order to flank me. I smiled. Together the four of them may have had a shot. Separated the only advantage they were leaving themselves was observation. At the current distances I could force a two-on-one situation with either Slab-face and his backup or the Nose and the Surfer. I was comfortable with those odds.
Don’t look at me like that,” Paris snapped. . it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder to tell the difference between necessary requests and his go-nowhere whims. ” Hecate finished her martini and stood up. She was exactly as tall as Paris—six feet on the dot—and had legs that been commented upon everywhere from Vogue to Maxim. ” Crap like that, which Hecate had found flattering when she was in her teens but now found trite. Her silver-white pubic hair was shaved to a tiny vee, and when she raised her leg to step into her panties the cabin lights sparkled on the golden rings in her labia.
Tell you what, Andrews, this is how we’re going to play it. I’m going to go over there and put flowers on the grave of my oldest and dearest friend—a woman who suffered horribly and died badly. I plan to sit with her for a while and I hope you have enough class and manners to allow me my privacy. Watch if you want to, but don’t get in my face. ” snapped the Nose. Andrews just looked at me. “That’s the agenda, Andrews,” I said. ” Despite his orders and his professional cool, he was a little off-balance.