cough it up, moses

Middle of procure a new revelator, selected the tousle-hair; Divination don’t adhere to no laws of grooming.

Bed-head never predict a thing his whole life, except that Ma gonna tell him make breakfast himself, if he want it that bad. He was right about that one.

Fair bit more than I ever, said the Preacher. And I’m a man of god.

Sound like word from another source, said muddy-foot Sam.

Rough-eye occupant in the street, shove a bit and step on bed-head’s toes. Make you come across funny, Bed-head spit out.

Hear how he take to it, after not more than a waft of position, said Beeftea. He step up and draw dirty mark where he stop with steel-toe plate shining through his boot.

Circle tightening around Bed-head. All three nod out this is a good thing. Boy make us fat where we havn’t been in long time.

Sight better than Muddy-foot’s forked stick, half-submerged in his back pocket, which only found water which was already apparent, all three agree.

He like a luminous stone in our hand, said Beeftea.

Bed-head thinking about nervous perspirate, come out with a prediction: Beeftea got a thing for the Preacher.

Hell you say, Muddy-foot exclaim, I never knew you all were that way.

Beeftea weren’t making words just hard up a bit with noises in his throat.

The Preacher making notes for declarate against unrighteous types of prophecy on cream-stained band inside his hat brim, straighten up quick.

Why you amn’t denying, said the Preacher. He eye on Beeftea a bit.

Beeftea find his voice, work out: This not something the boy know. I vouch he lie.

Muddy-foot careful with his tongue. But you ain’t deny yet.

We never, said the Preacher.

Scratch-filled space lay thick on them. Beeftea look like he don’t wait his mouth, but he do anyway.

You say yourself he a luminesce… like a paint contain a phosphor, said Muddy-foot.

Beeftea growing redder in cheek and neck, sputtering back into silence.

Cough it up, moses, said Bed-head, but Beeftea just choke louder.

All three pay attention with steady stare to bed-head, like he got some ability they feared. Wish they reverse what they done, now bed-head take to power.

Of three, two regret much, one goggle-eye at sort of news town havn’t had in more than a year.

People crowd in to look at rumple-hair boy. Weren’t no chance of going back now.

Whole town hear what Bed-head said.