Monday’s Excerpts - Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

This Week’s Book: Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

     “Aren’t you cold?”
     “I hadn’t noticed.”
     “Oh my God, you are a child. If we leave you alone here, you’ll freeze to death, you’ll starve to death.” And so on. It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love. (Pages 131-132)

—————

     The Blue Fairy Godmother left, amused and patronizing. When he was gone, Lazzaro promised Billy and poor old Edgar Derby that he was going to have revenge, and that revenge was sweet.
     “It’s the sweetest thing there is,” said Lazzaro. “People fuck with me,” he said, “and Jesus Christ are they ever fucking sorry. I laugh like hell. I don’t care if it’s a guy or a dame. If the President of the United States fucked around with me, I’d fix him good. You should have seen what I did to a dog one time.”
     “A dog?” said Billy.
     “Son of a bitch bit me. So I got me some steak, and I got me the spring out of a clock. I cut that spring up in little pieces. I put points on the ends of the pieces. They were sharp as razor blades. I stuck ’em into the steak—way inside. And I went past where they had the dog tied up. He wanted to bite me again. I said to him, ‘Come on, doggie—let’s be friends. Let’s not be enemies any more. I’m not mad.’ He believed me.”
     “He did?”
     “I threw him the steak. He swallowed it down in one big gulp. I waited around for ten minutes.” Now Lazzaro’s eyes twinkled. “Blood started coming out of his mouth. He started crying and he rolled on the ground, as though the knives were on the outside of him instead of on the inside. Then he tried to bite out his own insides. I laughed, and I said to him, ‘You got the right idea now. Tear your own guts out, boy. That’s me in there with all those knives.’” So it goes.
     “Anybody ever asks you what the sweetest thing in life is—” said Lazzaro, “it’s revenge.” (Pages 138-139)

—————

     “Are—are you Kilgore Trout?”
     “Yes.” Trout supposed that Billy had some complaint about the way his newspapers were being delivered. He did not think of himself as a writer for the simple reason that the world had never allowed him to think of himself in this way.
     “The—the writer?” said Billy.
     “The what?”
     Billy was certain that he had made a mistake. “There’s a writer named Kilgore Trout.”
     “There is?” Trout looked foolish and dazed.
     “You never heard of him?”
     Trout shook his head. “Nobody—nobody ever did.” (Page 169)

Books finished this past week...
★★★★☆ The Giver by Lois Lowry
★★★★☆ The Blind Watchmaker by Richard Dawkins

(All title links link back to my webpages of them on Goodreads.com, a great library/reviewing/rating website for readers. Check it out, and add me as a friend if you decide to join!)