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Shannon Giglio is reading THE PALE KING by David Foster Wallace October 2, 2014 - 4:23am



Shannon Giglio

“Freak!” Frat Boy Number One yells, pitching a wax cup half-filled with soda at me. Only my left shoe and the cuff of my jeans are hit, wet, cold, and sticky.

“Gimp!” another one screams across the chasm, waving his baseball cap, like I can’t see him. I’m not blind, for Christ’s sake.

“Quadriplegic!” the third howls into my outdoor habitat, spitting tobacco juice into the moat that separates me from the tourists.

“He’s not in a wheel chair, retard. He’s only missing an arm and a hand,” says the Gimp Shouter, swilling cheap beer from a plastic bottle, spilling some on his Aeropostale t-shirt.

I stifle a laugh. I’d yell to Frat Boy One that he missed, that he throws like a girl, but we’re not supposed to say anything to them unless we’re doing a meet and greet...