By Gabino Iglesias
He has a mouth in his intestine. An obnoxious, toothy, foul-mouthed, pig of a mouth. fortunately, his female friend doesn't appear to brain. Marie, the one-legged stripper and cyber-prostitute love of his existence is particularly accepting of it. after which a bit too accepting. What could you do in the event that your female friend cheated on you with the voracious yapper below your abdominal button? when you dwell in Gutmouth's world-a bleak urban the place ugly, spontaneous mutations aren't any gigantic deal, klepto-roaches take something no longer tied-down, medications flip discomfort into excitement, shoppers are tortured for starting to be foodstuff, and your ally is a misogynistic rat-man-you may perhaps do whatever loopy. And what should you bought stuck?
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Additional info for Gutmouth
Example text
Will squeezed between barrels and crates, being careful to keep out of the way of the oarsmen. He huddled down as it began to rain, feeling the drops soak through his shirt. As the barge reached the side of the ship, he realized how big it was. Even loaded with cargo and sitting low in the water, her sides dwarfed the little barge. By the time the small vessel was tied to the ship and the cargo transferred, Will was soaked. He looked more like a rescued rat than a seaman. A grizzled sailor wearing a round, flat-brimmed hat, blue breeches, and a blue-and-white checked shirt greeted him.
Epp caught the boy’s admiring glance. ” he shouted. ” The words sounded playful, but Will knew it was a taunt. Just then Jack came up behind him, carrying a bucket. “It’s harder than it looks,” he warned. ” Will looked up and could see it was true. The sails were full, but on deck there was but the slightest breeze. Just then Mr. Smithson came into view. He stopped in front of the Will Northaway and the Quest for Liberty 51 boy, regarding him through hostile eyes. ” Will started to scowl but thought better of it.
You must be the new boy. ” Will asked. ” “A ship’s a small place,” Jack answered. ” Will flinched. “I didn’t expect Mr. Mattison to tell everyone,” he said stiffly. “Oh, Mr. Mattison wouldn’t say a word. It’s Blue who’s the talker. A regular town crier. ” Jack talked easily. He had a friendly, open face, and Will began to relax. The younger boy looked at the basket next to him. ” “Aye. We pick apart this old rope and use it to fill cracks in the wood. ” “That don’t look too hard,” Will said. “It’s not hard, just boring.