In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

48 Liar’s Ball My wife points to pencil-snarls scrawled on the wall. “Erik, who did this?” “Da-Da!” he pipes cheerfully. Wham-bam, he’s in a chandeliered ballroom with Peter, who denied Christ; Clinton, who disclaimed Paula; Arnold Upchurch, who disputes DNA, wailing, “I didn’t do it,” as the state’s poison pours in. Hurray— we’re at the Liar’s Ball, where Erik, tuxed by Baby Gap, is Toddler King. We wear false faces, and dance the Duplicity here. We play Prevaricator’s Waltz in shifting keys. “Da-Da!” Erik cries to wild applause, hands raised like goalposts, fibbing’s football tumbling through. My squawk-puppet’s a real boy now. He’s joined the League of Lying Animals—totem, the angler fish; mascot, the trap-door spider. He wears the sacred T-shirt: Adam, whining, “What apple?!” “The bosses can hijack your body any time,” I tell him. “But your mind’s a temple. Never tell them how you dance in there.” ...

Share