Mark Haddon - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

And Mother knocked on the door and said a policeman wanted to talk to me and I had to open the door. And she said she wouldn’t let him take me away and she promised. So I picked Toby up and opened the door.

And there was a policeman outside the door and he said, “Are you Christopher Boone?”

And I said I was.

And he said, “Your father says you’ve run away. Is that right?”

And I said, “Yes.”

And he said, “Is this your mother?” and he pointed at Mother.

And I said, “Yes.”

And he said, “Why did you run away?”

And I said, “Because Father killed Wellington, who is a dog, and I was frightened of him.”

And he said, “So I’ve been told.” And then he said, “Do you want to go back to Swindon to your father or do you want to stay here?”

And I said, “I want to stay here.”

And he said, “And how do you feel about that?”

And I said, “I want to stay here.”

And the policeman said, “Hang on. I’m asking your mother.”

And Mother said, “He told Christopher I was dead.”

And the policeman said, “OK, let’s… let’s not get into an argument about who said what here. I just want to know whether—”

And Mother said, “Of course he can stay.”

And then the policeman said, “Well, I think that probably settles it as far as I’m concerned.”

And I said, “Are you going to take me back to Swindon?”

And he said, “No.”

And then I was happy because I could live with Mother.

And the policeman said, “If your husband turns up and causes any trouble, just give us a ring. Otherwise, you’re going to have to sort this out between yourselves.”

And then the policeman went away and I had my tomato soup and Mr. Shears stacked up some boxes in the spare room so he could put a blowup mattress on the floor for me to sleep on, and I went to sleep.

And then I woke up because there were people shouting in the flat and it was 2:31 a.m. And one of the people was Father and I was frightened. But there wasn’t a lock on the door of the spare room.

And Father shouted, “I’m talking to her whether you like it or not. And I am not going to be told what to do by you of all people.”

And Mother shouted, “Roger. Don’t. Just—”

And Mr. Shears shouted, “I’m not being spoken to like that in my own home.”

And Father shouted, “I’ll talk to you how I damn well like.”

And Mother shouted, “You have no right to be here.”

And Father shouted, “No right? No right? He’s my fucking son, in case you’ve forgotten.”

And Mother shouted, “What in God’s name did you think you were playing at, saying those things to him?”

And Father shouted, “What was I playing at? You were the one that bloody left.”

And Mother shouted, “So you decided to just wipe me out of his life altogether?”

And Mr. Shears shouted, “Now let’s us all just calm down here, shall we?”

And Father shouted, “Well, isn’t that what you wanted?”

And Mother shouted, “I wrote to him every week. Every week.”

And Father shouted, “Wrote to him? What the fuck use is writing to him?”

And Mr. Shears shouted, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

And Father shouted, “I cooked his meals. I cleaned his clothes. I looked after him every weekend. I looked after him when he was ill. I took him to the doctor. I worried myself sick every time he wandered off somewhere at night. I went to school every time he got into a fight. And you? What? You wrote him some fucking letters.”

And Mother shouted, “So you thought it was OK to tell him his mother was dead?”

And Mr. Shears shouted, “Now is not the time.”

And Father shouted, “You, butt out or I’ll—”

And Mother shouted, “Ed, for God’s sake—”

And Father said, “I’m going to see him. And if you try to stop me—”

And then Father came into my room. But I was holding my Swiss Army knife with the saw blade out in case he grabbed me. And Mother came into the room as well, and she said, “It’s OK, Christopher. I won’t let him do anything. You’re all right.”

And Father bent down on his knees near the bed and he said, “Christopher?”

But I didn’t say anything.

And he said, “Christopher, I’m really, really sorry. About everything. About Wellington. About the letters. About making you run away. I never meant… I promise I will never do anything like that again. Hey. Come on, kiddo.”

And then he held up his right hand and spread his fingers out in a fan so that I could touch his fingers, but I didn’t because I was frightened.

And Father said, “Shit. Christopher, please.”

And there were tears dripping off his face.

And no one said anything for a while.

And then Mother said, “I think you should go now,” but she was talking to Father, not me.

And then the policeman came back because Mr. Shears had rung the police station and he told Father to calm down and he took him out of the flat.

And Mother said, “You go back to sleep now. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

And then I went back to sleep.

229.And when I was asleep I had one of my favorite dreams. Sometimes I have it during the day, but then it’s a daydream. But I often have it at night as well.

And in the dream nearly everyone on the earth is dead, because they have caught a virus. But it’s not like a normal virus. It’s like a computer virus. And people catch it because of the meaning of something an infected person says and the meaning of what they do with their faces when they say it, which means that people can also get it from watching an infected person on television, which means that it spreads around the world really quickly.

And when people get the virus they just sit on the sofa and do nothing and they don’t eat or drink and so they die. But sometimes I have different versions of the dream, like when you can see two versions of a film, the ordinary one and the director’s cut, like Blade Runner.And in some versions of the dream the virus makes them crash their cars or walk into the sea and drown, or jump into rivers, and I think that this version is better because then there aren’t bodies of dead people everywhere.

And eventually there is no one left in the world except people who don’t look at other people’s faces and who don’t know what these pictures mean

and these people are all special people like me. And they like being on their own and I hardly ever see them because they are like okapi in the jungle in the Congo, which are a kind of antelope and very shy and rare.

And I can go anywhere in the world and I know that no one is going to talk to me or touch me or ask me a question. But if I don’t want to go anywhere I don’t have to, and I can stay at home and eat broccoli and oranges and licorice laces all the time, or I can play computer games for a whole week, or I can just sit in the corner of the room and rub a ?1 coin back and forward over the ripple shapes on the surface of the radiator. And I wouldn’t have to go to France.

And I go out of Father’s house and I walk down the street, and it is very quiet even though it is the middle of the day and I can’t hear any noise except birds singing and wind and sometimes buildings falling down in the distance, and if I stand very close to traffic lights I can hear a little click as the colors change.

And I go into other people’s houses and play at being a detective and I can break the windows to get in because the people are dead and it doesn’t matter. And I go into shops and take things I want, like pink biscuits or PJ’s Raspberry and Mango Smoothie or computer games or books or videos.