Chapter 3 Chapter 1 Honeymoon in Paris

What kind of moon is that?It does not glow brightly.Oh, it murmured listlessly, with fuzzy edges, like a cheap fake.This moon did not possess the magic that would draw carnivores into the blissful night sky and into the bliss of chopping and dismembering.It was the kind of moon that flapped shyly over a clean window-pane and fell on a woman who was leaning happily and triumphantly on a corner of a sofa, talking about flowers, buns with caviar, and Paris. Paris? That's right.By the moon, she was speaking of Paris in a voice like molasses spread very thinly.She spoke of Paris again. What can the moon do at this time, it has a smile on its face that wants to hold its breath, and it foolishly decorates itself with a circle of lace.It flapped weakly against the window, but couldn't get through that unnaturally sweet whisper.The Dark Avenger could only settle in a corner of the room, listening as poor dazed Dexter did now, the moonlight dimly illuminating his chair.

Alas, this moon must be a honeymoon moon--marriage banners are flying in the parlor at night, pompous, solemn and sacred, stepping into the palace, beckoning friends--Dimpled Dexter is getting married, He will become one with the good luck represented by the lovely Rita, and he will be blessed with good fortune.And Rita, she loved Paris so enduringly. Marriage, honeymoon in Paris... can these words really be associated with our Phantom of the Meat Slicer? Is this possible?We see a bloody murderer suddenly sober, smirking, appearing on the church altar, wearing a Fred Astaire cravat and tailcoat, putting rings on white-gloved fingers On the show, the audience sniffled excitedly and had a good time.Then the demon Dexter, in Madras check shorts, either stares blankly at the Eiffel Tower, or swallows coffee with milk like a cow in front of the Arc de Triomphe; walks hand in hand along the Seine dizzily , absent-mindedly looking at every gaudy trinket in the Louvre.

Of course, I think I'll pay my respects to the Rue Mauger, which is a sanctuary for serial killers. Or let's get a little more serious: Dexter in Paris?The first question is: Will the Americans still be allowed to go to Paris?The last question is Dexter going to Paris?Honeymoon?Who in Dexter's midnight air would ponder such a normal thing?Who would marry who sees sex as a loss?Anyway, how could such an irreverent, gloomy, lifeless Dexter have thought of it? All questions were well asked and reasonable.And it's really hard to answer, even for myself.But here I am, enduring Rita's staring anticipation—an ordeal comparable to Chinese waterboarding—and wondering if Dexter will make it through.

All right.Dexter survives in part because he has to maintain and even upgrade the disguise he needs without letting the world see through his truth.The truth, then, is that, on a good note, you wouldn't want to sit with this person if the restaurant had a sudden power outage, especially when the silver cutlery was within arm's reach.So naturally, it took a lot of careful retouching to keep it from being obvious that Dexter was actually driven by the Nightcrawler.Whispering in a silky voice in the dark backseat, the Nightcrawler occasionally climbs up to the front seat to take over the driving position and take us into an incredible theme park.No, the sheep must not see that Dexter is a wolf in the mix.

So we work together.We are the Nightcrawler and I, painstakingly disguised from head to toe.Over the past few years, we've introduced Dexter in a relationship, in an effort to create a cheerful, normal image for everyone to see.This glamorous production requires Rita as a girlfriend, which seems like a perfect arrangement, because Rita, like me, is not interested in sex, but wants to be accompanied by a considerate and considerate gentleman.Dexter is really empathetic, but not human, romantic, love, or whatever.no.What Dexter understands is the deadly bottom line, how to find the most villainous guy among Miami's plethora of badass candidates to accept the ultimate dark verdict on Dexter's modest Hall of Fame.

That doesn't absolutely guarantee that Dexter will be a charming companion; charisma takes years to develop and requires a high level of craftsmanship.Good thing poor Rita couldn't tell the difference between mayonnaise and butter because she was devastated by a previous tragic violent marriage. all the best.For two years, Dexter and Rita were the face of Miami society, and everyone loved them everywhere they went.But then, a series of events happened, and although there were many suspicious things in the eyes of the discerning, Dexter and Rita were still engaged by accident.The more I try to free myself from this bullshit fate, the more I see it's a natural way to upgrade the pretense.Married Dexter - Dexter with two ready kids! —was so unlike him that no one would have recognized him.A big leap forward, a new realm of camouflage for humanity.

Moreover, there are two children. It seemed odd that a guy who was only interested in human vivisection would really like Rita's baby.But, it is true.Mind you, I don't get tears in my eyes when I think about a child's baby teeth falling out, that kind of thing requires emotion, and I'm glad I don't have those mood swings.But generally I find kids to be a lot more fun than their parents, and I'm always furious at people who hurt kids.In fact, I sometimes seek out these people specifically.When I get them and I'm sure they've done it and are doing it again, I'm going to make sure they can't do it anymore.

So, the fact that Rita has two kids from a previous nightmare marriage doesn't bother me at all, especially as I've come to see that they need Dexter's unique paternal guidance to make their Nightcrawler The prototypes are kept safe and warm in the back of a car until they learn to drive alone.Presumably due to trauma from their drug-addicted biological father, Cody and Astor both turned to the dark side like I did.Now they will be my children, both legally and spiritually.I'm going to guide them, and that makes me feel like life has a purpose. That said, there were several valid reasons for Dexter to be put off a bit—but Paris?Why do you think Paris is very romantic?French aside, does anyone really think accordions are sexy?Except Lawrence Wilke.Obviously the French don't like us, so they insist on speaking only French.

Maybe Rita has been brainwashed by old movies, imagining a swaggering, shadeless blonde and a romantic brunette chasing and frolicking around the Eiffel Tower with modern music playing in the background, laughing at the dirty Parisians with Gallic cigarettes and berets, all with a funny hostility.Or she had listened to a Jacque Blair record once and decided her soul had been touched.Who knows?In any case, Rita's idea of ​​Paris as the capital of sophistication and romance was firmly embedded in her mind, and she couldn't get it out without a craniotomy. In addition to the endless debates about whether to eat chicken or fish, drink wine or go to bars, there are also a lot of endless and incomprehensible tirade about the hard-hearted people in Paris.We could of course play for a whole week, for example, so that we would have enough time to see the Tuileries Gardens and the Louvre, and perhaps Molière's National Théâtre de France.I really applaud such a detailed travel guide.From my point of view, since a long time ago when I knew Paris was in France, my interest in Paris completely disappeared.

Luckily, Cody and Astor walked in without a sound, while I was racking my brains for how to tell her all this without being hurtful.They don't come in and bang the room like most kids between the ages of seven and ten, and as I said, these two kids were terribly ruined by their dear biological father, one of the aftereffects of which is that you never see They come in and out—they seem to seep in.They are obviously not there at this moment, but the next moment they are already quietly standing beside you, waiting to be discovered by you. "Oh," Rita said, pausing from her memories of Rousseau, Candide, and Jerry Lewis, "ah, well, why don't you..."

"We want to kick cans with Dexter," Astor said, while Cody nodded vigorously. Rita frowned: "Maybe we should have talked about this earlier, do you think Cody and Astor, I mean, should they call you differently, I don't know what to call you— But, Dexter, it seems a little..." "Is it monpapere (father)? Or Monsieurle Comte (Mr. Earl)?" I asked. ① "I don't want to, okay?" Astor muttered. "I just think..." Rita said. "It's nice to be called Dexter," I said. "They're all used to it." "That doesn't sound very polite," she said. I looked down at Astor. "Show Mom that you can respectfully be called 'Dexter,'" I told her. She rolled her eyes and said, "Please-please." I smiled at Rita. "See, she's ten years old. No words of respect." "Ah, yes, but..." Rita went on. "It's all right. They're all right," I said, "but the thing about Paris . . . " "Let's go," Cody said.I looked at him in surprise.Four complete syllables is no less than a speech to him. "Well," Rita said, "if you really want to..." "I almost never think," I said, "that it's going to prevent the brain from working properly." "It doesn't make sense," Astor said. "It doesn't make sense, it's the way it is," I said. Cody shook his head. "Kick the can," he said. Following Cody's style of cherishing words like gold, I followed him to the yard without saying a word.