“Awkward’s a gentle word for it,” he replied. He wasn’t good with words, though, so coming up with a word that was worse than awkward wasn’t possible.
A nod. “Definitely the worst.” Without the murderer being around, however, Silas wondered if Rae still would’ve considered him more or less invisible. He snorted a laugh at the comment about blowup dolls being better than real girlfriends. “Dunno if I’d go that far.” He smirked over at Brandon. “Unless you’re sayin’ you want that doll for yourself. Be my guest. Just don’t give it back when you’re done.”
Silas pointed at Brandon with his cigarette and nodded. “Exactly. That’s my excuse and I’m fuckin’ stickin’ to it.”
“Nice people don’t live too long anymore,” he remarked. “Unless they got damn good bodyguards around to keep them alive and from bein’ taken advantage of.” Of course, he was speaking of nuns, but there was an underlying meaning there that Silas wasn’t aware of.
Silas laughed. “Definitely something we could think about this winter when there’s not much else to do. Plan for the summer zombie Olympics.”
A proud smile came to his lips when the Smasher became a mass of guts and body parts in the pit. Impressed, he shook his head once. “Never gets old.” Making zombies explode was one of the most satisfying hobbies he’d ever had.