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

Except I haven't done any of those things. I just asked Mrs. Alexander about Mr. Shears because—”
    But Father interrupted me and said, “Don't give me that bollocks, you little shit. You knew exactly what you were bloody doing. I've read the book, remember.” And when he said this he held up the book and shook it. “What else did I say, Christopher?”
    I thought that this might be another rhetorical question, but I wasn't sure. I found it hard to work out what to say because I was starting to get scared and confused.
    Then Father repeated the question, “What else did I say, Christopher?”
    I said, “I don't know.”
    And he said, “Come on. You're the fucking memory man.”
    But I couldn't think.
    And Father said, “Not to go around sticking your fucking nose into other people's business. And what do you do? You go around sticking your nose into other people's business. You go around raking up the past and sharing it with every Tom, Dick and Harry you bump into. What am I going to do with you, Christopher? What the fuck am I going to do with you?”
    I said, “I was just doing chatting with Mrs. Alexander. I wasn't doing investigating.”
    And he said, “I ask you to do one thing for me, Christopher. One thing.”
    And I said, “I didn't want to talk to Mrs. Alexander. It was Mrs. Alexander who—”
    But Father interrupted me and grabbed hold of my arm really hard.
    Father had never grabbed hold of me like that before. Mother had hit me sometimes because she was a very hot-tempered person, which means that she got angry more quickly than other people and she shouted more often. But Father was a more levelheaded person, which means he didn't get angry as quickly and he didn't shout as often. So I was very surprised when he grabbed me.
    I don't like it when people grab me. And I don't like being surprised either. So I hit him, like I hit the policeman when he took hold of my arms and lifted me onto my feet. But Father didn't let go, and he was shouting. And I hit him again. And then I didn't know what I was doing anymore.
    I had no memories for a short while. I know it was a short while because I checked my watch afterward. It was like someone had switched me off and then switched me on again. And when they switched me on again I was sitting on the carpet with my back against the wall and there was blood on my right hand and the side of my head was hurting. And Father was standing on the carpet a meter in front of me looking down at me and he was still holding my book in his right hand, but it was bent in half and all the corners were messed up, and there was a scratch on his neck and a big rip in the sleeve of his green and blue check shirt and he was breathing really deeply.
    After about a minute he turned and walked through to the kitchen. Then he unlocked the back door into the garden and went outside. I heard him lift the lid of the dustbin and drop something into it and put the lid of the dustbin back on. Then he came into the kitchen again, but he wasn't carrying the book anymore. Then he locked the back door again and put the key into the little china jug that is shaped like a fat nun and he stood in the middle of the kitchen and closed his eyes.
    Then he opened his eyes and he said, “I need a fucking drink.”
    And he got himself a can of beer.
    131. These are some of the reasons why I hate yellow and brown

    YELLOW

    1. Custard
    2. Bananas (bananas also turn brown)
    3. Double Yellow Lines
    4. Yellow Fever (which is a disease from tropical America and West Africa which causes a high fever, acute nephritis, jaundice and hemorrhages, and it is caused by a virus transmitted by the bite of a mosquito called
Aëdes aegypti,
which used to be called
Stegomyia fasciata;
and nephritis is inflammation of the kidneys)
    5. Yellow Flowers (because I get hay fever from flower pollen, which is one of 3 sorts of hay fever, and the others are from grass pollen and fungus pollen, and it makes me feel ill)
    6. Sweet