“Thank you,” said Nathan.
“And also this.”
Nathan gazed at the piece of paper, which read Certificate of Adoption.
“This is dated twenty-two years ago!”
“Yes. I knew I’d made a mistake in not properly adopting you, and do you know the very first thing I bought with my first post-banishment pay? Even before my insulin? I bought this certificate, Nathan. I made you my son for real.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Oh, how we searched for you. And when I met Adam, he helped me search for you as well. Not effectively, obviously, but we did search. And after Gary was born, we told him that he had a long-lost brother. He helped us search—again, not with the greatest of skill, but with true passion. Finally, we decided that we should build a house and wait for that special day when you found us, because we knew that you must be searching as desperately as we were. And you did. And then you left. So I’m very thankful to Beverly for getting in touch with us. That was sweet of her.”
“I love you, Penny,” said Nathan.
“And I love you, Nathan.”
When it was time to leave, Nathan and Beverly bid everyone a tearful goodbye and promised to keep in touch at least once a week.
* * *
As you probably know quite well, Nathan and Beverly are still out there, bringing happiness every single day. Perhaps you were personally touched by their kindness, and perhaps it encouraged you to do a good deed as well.
On that note, the tale of Fangboy draws to a close. It is hoped that you found some valuable lessons contained within, as well as a moment of entertainment or two. Perhaps there will be other adventures in their future, in which case we promise that an expanded version of this text will be made available for your purchasing pleasure, or perhaps even a full sequel, should enough adventures stockpile to make such an endeavor worthwhile.
We thank you for your time, and hope you have a good night.
* * *
“I think we should do eleven good deeds today,” says Nathan, as he and Beverly walk hand in hand toward the next town.
“Eleven? That’s madness!”
“Or perhaps twelve!”
“We’ll be exhausted!”
“Yes, I was only kidding. We wouldn’t really do twelve. But I think we should do eleven. That would make four thousand and fifteen good deeds a year.”
Beverly smiles. “Then we’d better get started.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jeff Strand’s demented novels include Benjamin’s Parasite, The Sinister Mr. Corpse, Dweller, and Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary). He has never set fires where they don’t belong. He owns butcher knives, but they are used strictly for standard kitchen butchery. Okay, he did bury the body of that one transient in a shallow grave, but he never claimed to be able to resist peer pressure.
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
About The Author