The Overton Window: Chapter Thirty-Four

Turns out the reedy woman was nobody. She's not mentioned again this chapter. In fact, I probably shouldn't have written about her at all. And fuck, now I've dragged her into two of my posts. She's not even named and I've given her more ink than Beck et al did.

So, yeah, about Beverly. She's dying. Been poisoned. That's the big reveal here. Well, one of them. The other is that Molly pulled the Mata Hari routine on Mom's orders.

"I don't expect you to understand why Molly did what I asked her to do. You should blame me, and not her."

Oh, well, I guess that's the old Conservative mantra of personally responsibility: Blame someone else! Huh? No, that's not right.

Beverly is on her deathbed. She's been beaten, she's been poisoned. She put her daughter up to duping Noah ("Noah, from the Bible, you know?" she says.) And then asks that same sap to get her daughter out of danger. Huh? What? I don't even... Zuh?

She trusts him why exactly? She has no reason to. None. It makes zero sense. It's illogical, and only serves to reunite Molly and Noah. Because star-crossed lovers. Or something. Seriously, this is some stupid shit right here.

Anyway, backing up a bit. When Noah first enters the room, it is overflowing with flowers.

Flowers were arranged all around the room, in baskets and vases and water pitchers, on extra rolling tables that seemed to have been brought in just to accommodate the overflow of gifts from well-wishers.

In case you didn't know, Everyone Loves Beverly (Mondays on the UPN!). Because she is such a Good Woman. And despite being beaten and poisoned, "the only thing that remained undimmed was that unforgettable spark in her light green eyes."

Really. The unforgettable spark. That is quality writing.

And even though she's dying and all, she finds the strength to comfort Noah. Because there's nothing better than being on your deathbed (literally) and having to soothe the soul of some over-privileged wankstain. That's totally how I want to go out. Just FYI.

Blah blah blah there's some inane dialogue, more eye twinkling, and general silliness. Beverly tells Noah to read Ephesians 6:12, rescue her daughter and save the world. Or at least America, I guess. I am sure Beverly could give two fucks about Mauritania.

My daughter is in danger. I need for you to promise me you'll see her to safety."

There were so many conflicting things hammering at his mind, but despite all that mental noise and everything that had happened, for once in his life he could see it all arranged in its true order of significance, and so he knew for certain there was only one thing to be said.

"I will."

Wouldn't she be better off with Hollis looking after her? I mean, he's a legendary survivalist. Noah, the manicured dildobrain so easily duped my Molly and Co. just two days ago, is Beverly's first choice as her daughter's protector? Whatever.

I sent Molly away, but she isn't safe yet," she said. "She's waiting now, near the airport. Look in the top drawer of the nightstand. She called and told one of the nurses where she'd be and they wrote it down for me."

Oh, that's not clunky or anything. No, definitely a very normal bit of dialogue. Speaking of things totally not clunky:

"I knew of your mother many years ago, and the good she wanted to do. That's what Molly saw in you: she told me. Not your father, but what your mother's given you. And I see it, too."

I don't really know what "I knew of your mother many years ago" means. Like, what, she'd read about her in a magazine? Like how I know of Justin Bieber now? Or something else? Like they were acquainted? I dunno.

Before Noah leaves, Beverly drops some mad science on him. Okay, no one says droppin' science anymore. Except me. Of course, we could bring that phrase back, right? Do me a favour. Use the phrase "droppin' science" in conversation today. Just for fun. Yeah, so Bev drops science, except she's a conservative, and probably very anti-science. Nonetheless:

There was that tiny glint of a smile again. "Noah, from the Bible, you know?"

He nodded, and despite everything, he smiled a bit himself. "Old Testament."

The weak hold on his hand tightened once again.

"He wasn't chosen because he was the best man who ever lived," she said softly. "He was chosen because he was the best man available."

Heavy. (Or not.)

Noah leaves and bumps into his doctor friend again out in the hallway. She tells him Beverly was pumped full of paraquat. What? They still make paraquat? Who knew? Glenn Beck knew, that's who! Or maybe this is the 1970s.

Then Dr. Meg Ryan offers up some foreboding words.

"I don't know how you're involved in all this," Ellen said, "but you'd better know something, Noah. There are a million kinds of murder, but anyone who would do to a person what they did to her? It only means there's nothing at all they wouldn't do."

Because, no doy, the New World Order ain't all unicorn farts and ice cream cones. Was anyone thinking it was? I thought we'd established back in the prologue that these were mean motorscooters, what with the assassination of the janitor and whatnot. They're planning to nuke Vegas, for fuck's sake. Why is the author trying to shock us with the notion that this PR firm is very, very bad?

Oh, yeah, because he's terrible, terrible writer.