A rail-thin, filmy-eyed figure in endlessly stained and dilapidated flannel is led up to the podium. He stands there for a moment, looking perplexed, and starts to wander off. The priest catches him and turns him around in the opposite direction. He continues to walk the other way until Lots42 grabs him and leads him back to the podium. Lots carefully places Hector's hands on the edges of the podium and doesn't let go until they grip. He stands there, staring blankly off into space as only someone with severe cognitive deficits can. The mourners murmur. The priest leans in close and whispers something in his ear. Hector continues to look blank, which is not really a change for him--Hector is perplexed by birds and animals, grass and trees, indoor plumbing, small children, larger children, adults, old people, music, computers, wind, air and wood. In short, he's perplexed and bewildered by every last thing in the universe, and "blank" is his default expression. His mouth opens and closes. He blows spitbubbles for several seconds, before words emerge. "I like pancakes. I'm purty sure Josh and Tumor liked pancakes." "Josh and SCOTT," someone hisses. Hector stares at them, as blank as ever. "I likes me some waffles, too. Sometimes waffles with chocolate. I drove a bus once. I drove for a long time. I c'n count to five. One...two...shoe...glue.."
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6/7/2019 12:12:16 AM
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