Life Expectancy: A Novel
Dean Koontz
Language: English
Pages: 496
ISBN: 0345533380
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
Before he died on a storm-wracked night, Jimmy Tock’s grandfather predicted that there would be five dark days in his grandson’s life—five dates whose terrible events Jimmy must prepare himself to face. The first is to occur in his twentieth year, the last in his thirtieth. What terrifying events await Jimmy on these five critical days? What challenges must he survive? The path he follows will defy every expectation and will take all the love, humor, and courage he possesses. For who Jimmy Tock is and what he must accomplish on the five days his world turns is a mystery both dangerous and wondrous.
“Comedy, tragedy, and the need for good bread,” Rudy said, making a little joke, including his own trade in the essence-of-life professions. This small frivolity earned him a fierce glare, a look that seemed capable not merely of stopping clocks but of freezing time. “‘Comedy, tragedy, and the need for good bread,’” Beezo repeated, perhaps expecting Dad to admit his quip had been inane. “Hey,” Dad said, “that sounds just like me,” for the clown had spoken in a voice that might have passed for
hiking, running marathons, pumping iron. I’ll never be in that loop. I like books, long dinners full of talk, long walks full of talk. You can’t talk going fifty miles an hour down a ski slope. You can’t talk when you’re running a marathon. Some people say I talk too much.” “They’re very opinionated, aren’t they?” “Who?” “‘Some people.’ Do you care what anyone thinks of you, outside your family?” “Not really. And that’s strange, don’t you think? I mean, only sociopathic maniacs don’t care
protested. “I’m in labor.” “Oh, worry not, dear, it’s very mild. It won’t much delay the baby.” “No. No, no.” “Dear girl, you’re only in first-stage labor and you will be for hours yet.” “How do you know that?” With a mischievous chuckle and a wink and a twitch of his nose, he said, “Darling, I must confess to being just a little bit naughty. A week ago, I planted a listening device in your kitchen, another in your living room, and I’ve been monitoring them ever since from Nedra Lamm’s house
could not help but relate to Mello. “Gee, he’s got such…a tiny one.” “Tiny what?” “Peepee.” “You call it a peepee?” “What—they use a fancier word at medical school?” “His willy is the usual size,” Mello assured me, “and plenty big enough for what he needs it for in the immediate future.” “My husband the idiot,” Lorrie said affectionately. “Jimmy, dear, the only baby boy ever going to be born with the equipment you expected will also have horns because he’ll be the Antichrist.” “Well, I’m
to have left a mark on Punchinello. His haircut was less stylish and less well executed than it had been when he had blown up the town square, but he was as handsome as ever, boyish. His movie-star smile seemed genuine. His dazzling green eyes gleamed with lively interest. As we sat across the wide table from him, he wiggled the fingers of his right hand at us, a gesture most commonly made by grandmothers and accompanied by the word toodle-oo. “You’re looking well,” I said. “I feel well,” he