"He had a choice," I said. "He could have spent his dayshelping old ladies across the street. He could have volunteeredin thelibrary. I expect they have a library here. He could haveraised funds for Africa, orwherever they need funds thesedays. He could have done a whole lot of good things. But hedidn’t. He chose not to. He chose to spend his days extortingmoney and hurting people. Then finally he opened the wrongdoor, and what came out at him was his problem, not mine.Plus he was useless. A waste of good food. Too stupid to live."
"Stupidity isn’t a capital crime. And there’s no death penaltyhere, anyway."
"There is now."
"Jesus Christ."
"I don’t think so," I said. "No beard. Nosandals."
"You’re a dead man."
"You said that already. Wishing doesn’t make it so."
"But also for ancient, savage reasons,becausefor every year humans had been modern, they had beenprimitive for seven hundred more, which left a residue, and bythat point the back part of my brain was firmly in charge. Mytribe needs you gone, pal. And you’re ugly, too. And you’re apussy."