Through the monitor, between the pixel spaces, I cannot find Yoknapatawpha County. I zoom in and out and in and out. I click and click, until my finger joint clicks also. I put my face on the monitor and moan. Caddy comes over and says, “Benjy, get the hell off the computer! You’re slobbering all over it!” Then there’s a white flag she calls a Lysol Disinfecting Wipe. She tries to erase Mississippi from the screen, but it’s stuck behind it. She turns the monitor off and night falls over the land.
Can you pleeeaase put in Yoknapatawpha, so I can find my way to Waffle House? There are two rivers on each side of Yoknapatawpha County, and some roads in between. (There’s also a horse without testicles.) I need your help, MapQuest. I can taste waffles in my mouth and smell them in my nostrils. Dilsey makes waffles, but they aren’t as good as Waffle House’s. Dude, I need directions.
I tried to follow the railroad tracks once but got lost. Caddy came and found me eating gravel. I like gravel. Dirt is under my feet, and when it’s wet I know I am in a mud fight. I may be retarded, but I’m 33. I always beat Versh and T.P.—they are “brothers,” which is very confusing, because even though Jason and Quentin are my brothers they aren’t “brothers.” Jason yells at me, “You idiot! Yoknapatawpha is a fictional county. We are Faulkner characters. We should be in some freaking Parisian—” Then Quentin interrupts and tells Jason this is all too “postmodern” for me to understand. What the hell is going on here?
I don’t care what postmodern is. I don’t even care what modern is. Go ahead and give Faulkner the PEN/Faulkner Award. I just want to zoom in until I can see my own head, and get me some waffles.