10 Things You Wish You Could Say to People

1. To the lady in front of me at the Walgreen’s check-out line.

Why do you insist on giving everyone a detailed analysis of your psoriasis condition, bellowing like you have something lodged? And actually showing us one of your alligator patches? No one asked for that, especially not the three small children who are now crying and will never eat pizza again. You have your prescription. Now get out of here and leave us alone.

2. To the lady at the drive-thru ATM.

What in the hell can possibly be taking so long? Is this your first time at the rodeo? You’ve been there twenty minutes. Either you don’t have any money in your account or you are attempting to do something that this machine was not meant to do. And here’s a tip: Simply gazing in bovine wonder at the screen while scratching the side of your head will not make anything happen. This is not a psychic transaction. Punch some buttons!

3. To the gentleman with the flip-flops at the beer store.

Have you ever washed your feet in your entire life?

4. To the person driving the apparent Cadillac-sized stereo speaker beside me at the stoplight.

All we can hear is bass. Thumping, skull-crushing bass that is causing nearby buildings to collapse. How can you possibly be enjoying that? There cannot be any pleasure in pounding sounds that rattle your teeth. (On the plus side, hopefully the vibrations are so intense that it will affect your sperm count and you will be unable to reproduce.) And don’t think you’re all street and unidentifiable with those tinted windows. I am writing your tag number down. Because one day, if we elect the right people, it will be perfectly legal to have you thrown in jail for the rest of your life. I will find you.

5. To the couple in the booth behind us at Cheddar’s restaurant.

What are you doing back there that requires you to bounce so much? I’m getting a little tired of being shoved against the table, resulting in involuntary Heimlich maneuvers. I just want to eat my food in peace, without fear of you flipping this booth over and I die with my face mashed into a plate of cheese fries with extra bacon. If your annoying inability to sit still is the result of a medical condition, I apologize and will quietly fasten my seatbelt. But it’s probably not, and my hatred grows with each bounce.

6. To the elderly woman blocking the grocery store aisle.

I understand that you’ve lived a long life, and you’re tired. These things happen. But really, why is it necessary to turn your cart sideways, and then proceed to caress every single can of string beans on the shelf? They’re all the same. I could whip out a casserole before you can touch them all.
And when I clear my throat, don’t rub at your bad knee like the sound is coming from there. When I very politely say “Excuse me, could I get by?”, don’t turn and glare at me with a mixture of anger and fright like it’s the Dust Bowl again and I’ve come to take your land because Paw-Paw can’t pay for the pig feed. (“Granny, get your gun!”) Just move. That’s all I want in life.

7. To the person at the gas pump that I’m waiting to access.

I know that you are done with all the intricate steps required for you to fill your car with gasoline. Because I watched your slow ass do every one of those steps while three entire songs played on the radio, and you are back in your car. What are you doing now? Why are you not driving away? Is there an issue with the operation of the vehicle? And whatever you’re looking for in that glove box, it can’t be that important or you would know exactly where it is. Play treasure hunt later. The rest of the world needs to get on with things, even if you don’t.

8. To the people who order something on the menu, and then change everything about it.

“Yes, I’d like the blue-cheese bacon burger. But no pickle or lettuce. And no blue-cheese, because I’m allergic to dairy. And only one strip of bacon. Wait, is that free-range bacon? Oh, you don’t know what that means? Hmm. Okay, hold the bacon, too. And could you make that a turkey burger, with the bun on the side? And they’ll need to clean the grill first, because I don’t want any fat from other people’s burgers. I’m not doing red meat this month. What kind of mineral water do you have?"

Look, you hag, why didn’t you just order the vegetarian burger, hold everything? God.

9. To the person driving the piece-of-crap pickup on the highway, going only thirty miles an hour, causing a backup from here to Corpus Christi as we all glare at your inbred children drooling in the truck bed and count the empty beer cans as they plink off the broken tailgate and slam into our windshields.

Die.

10. To my therapist.

I think I might need to book a few extra sessions. So we can talk about my anger management situation. How about the entire month of August? Thanks.

10 Reasons Why John Saul Books Are Just Like Real Life

1. People don’t pay any attention to what’s going on around them.

  This is a general theme in all of his books, with the townsfolk taking forever to figure out that something is not quite right in their little burgh. Sure, we always have ONE character who clues in fairly early, but this person is always regarded with suspicion and non-validation. In fact, the townsfolk will make very effort to institutionalize this person and their wild imagination if they don’t shut up.

  Everyone else goes on about their day, ignoring the obvious warning signs. (A mutilated corpse was found at Dairy Queen! The kindergarten class has an odd fondness for meat cleavers! The mailman is levitating!) Instead, they just continue watching “Ellen” or preparing for the bake sale at the youth center, which will turn out to be scene of a horrific slaughter-fest in the final chapters. (Don’t go near the raisin pie!)

2. When confronted with a potential crisis, most people choke.

  The few people who DO manage to connect the dots then go into total responsive failure. Rather than immediately packing up the kids and heading to a larger town where John Saul characters don’t usually live, they instead sit around in their unsafe domiciles and talk about what they might need to do. This accomplishes nothing, of course, other than allowing time for the night creatures to find weapons of mass destruction and practice killing lesser characters.

3. People sure sleep a lot.

  When the clueless and non-evacuating people get done talking (usually over coffee, because John Saul characters always have endless addictions to go with their inability to concentrate on the lethal possibilities around them), they then all head off to bed, hoping that “things will be better in the morning”.

  Things are never better in the morning. In fact, if you even LIVE to see the morning, you’re already on the bonus plan. (Surviving until daylight also means that you have a dark secret in your past, and you will have to spill this tea at some later point, so be prepared for a lengthy monologue in a later scene, where you suddenly remember that the killer’s eyes look just like Aunt Sarah’s did before she went insane in 1947 and killed that cheerleader with a blowtorch.)

  Besides, we all know that most of the gruesome mayhem occurs at night, so don’t slack off and try to sleep. Death and destruction in the pretty sunshine is just not as much fun. It is much more emotionally effective for the psychotic farmhand to be running after you at midnight, waving a pitchfork and confusing you with his sadistic uncle who was overly fond of the livestock. When it’s dark, you have a much better chance of tripping over a pocket of air in the evil cornfield, thus allowing John Saul to use his superlative narrative skills as you are dismembered, clutching the very bracelet that could have saved you if you’d only known how to open it.

4. People are ill-prepared for dangerous situations.

  Okay, these characters are already reality-challenged by not leaving town the very second the first odd death takes place, so we know we don’t have the sharpest tools in the shed. But still, why would you sneak into the ancient church, hoping to find out more about the demonic rituals you suspect are taking place, without taking a gun or letting people know what’s on your social calendar? Why would you go back to the used-car lot, where your best friend Franny was impaled on the flagpole, riding your bicycle with the chain that always breaks?

  And why in the WORLD would you march into the blackness of something called Rotted Death Cave, without taking a flashlight, rope, medical supplies, an oxygen tank, the jaws of life, and several pals who have already BEEN in the cave before and/or have appeared in other John Saul books and can point out where the monsters dwell. But no, these idiots go clattering to their deaths with nothing but a tube top and some flip-flops.

5. People don’t listen.

  If a haggard woman you’ve never met approaches you in the grocery store, warning of the dangers to be found at Hangman’s Bluff, listen to her. If you answer the phone and a mysterious voice tells you not to order the hamburger surprise at the local diner tonight, then don’t. In fact, eat in. If the town drunk, who never talks to anybody, suddenly hands you a garlic necklace, then wear it. See how this works? Take notes, stay alive, and hope there’s a sequel.

6. Authority figures should never be trusted.

  There’s always a police officer, lawyer or crossing guard in town that is working for the dark side. Keep this in mind. If they were really looking out for your best interests, they would have captured the killer in the first few chapters and this would be a book about picnics and spiritual growth. It’s not. Be prepared.

7. Never trust a small town with a cute name.

  Do not move to places like “Happy Meadow” or “Clear-Skin Cove”. Nothing good can come of this relocation, no matter how many relatives you have there or even if it’s the place you grew up. And by no means should you select a town with a population under 5,000. That’s total madness. Suck it up and move somewhere named “Insanity Gulch”. At least you’ll know what to expect, and you won’t waste time trusting neighbors that only want to eviscerate you.

8. Avoid families with money.

  It’s a known fact that rich people are serial killers. They’ve got too much time on their hands, and they will eventually turn to the dark arts out of sheer boredom. And if the town is named after their family? Even worse. Never speak to these people. Make friends with the vagrants on the wrong side of the tracks, because they can’t afford to pay off the sheriff or plant evidence. And when you have that inevitable affair with one of the rich sons, because you’re a tramp? Keep it purely physical, and make him leave the light on when you’re at the motel.

9. Children will disappoint you in the end.

  And here we have another central John Saul theme: the angelic children with their pesky mental illnesses that lead to overtime in the coroner’s office. You should never turn your back on these little urchins, and by no means should you ever believe anything they say. They only want to kill you. Especially if they have blonde hair.

10. Happiness never lasts.

  Although John Saul generally wraps up his stories by ending the main section of the book on a slightly positive note (even if most of the characters are dead or confined to mental asylums), he can’t help but add an epilogue. And these addendums are never fun. We always learn that the pain and torment is not over. The madman didn’t really die, the government conspiracy is still going on, the spirits of unfairly-treated victims are still pissed off, or the hostess is still making those appetizers that nobody wants.

  But try and get some sleep. Things will be better in the morning…