Chapter 49

FACEBOOKED

Igh fwabwagh arg dey.” Marjorie takes a huge, hiccupy breath and then starts speaking this weird alien language again. “I can’t blurgreve!”

Marjorie is crying her eyes out. She’s been this way since I walked through the front door, and I can’t understand a word she’s saying, but I’m trying really hard to be sympathetic. I would be more sympathetic if I knew what the hell was going on. Marjorie babbles some more, and I hope she’s not having a stroke. She’s a little young for it, but still.…

“Oh, Kooks!” she wails.

“It’ll be okay,” I tell her. Poor thing.

“You’re so strong!” She mashes her lips together, and now I really have the feeling I don’t know what’s going on.

“Really, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” I tell her.

“Wait!” Marjorie’s eyes go huge, and I worry that if she sneezes, they’ll pop right out of her head. “You don’t know?”

“What?” A heebie-jeebie skitters up my legs.

“You don’t even know what they’ve done to you! And here I am, wailing my head off, and YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW?!” She bursts into a new fit of hysterical tears.

This, incidentally, is an extremely effective way to freak someone out. Heebie-jeebies start parachuting out of the sky and landing all over me.

“Marjorie, do you think you could just, like, slow down and maybe do a yoga pose and explain what you’re talking about?” I’m begging, I know. But I figure that, no matter how bad the truth is, it can’t be that bad.

The phone rings. Marjorie startles as if she’s been electrified, so I get it.

“Get on Facebook,” Flatso demands, before I even say hello.

“Can I borrow this?” I ask Marjorie, whose laptop is open on the kitchen table. Morris the Dog paces below, and when I reach out to scratch his ears, he skitters away. Wow. Everyone’s jumpy.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Marjorie screeches, and throws her arm over her eyes, as if she can’t bear to watch the horror.

Her screen is already open to Facebook. I have an account, but I only check it once a day or so. It’s a huge time suckhole for me, so I try to stay away. I sign in and look at my newsfeed.

“This video of a Chihuahua licking a kitten?” I ask.

“Scroll down,” Flatso commands, so I do, and that’s when I see it.