（外文电子版资料）Stephen King - Popsy.doc

Popsyby Stephen King Sheridan was cruising slowly down the long blank length of the shopping mall when he saw the little kid push out through the main doors under the lighted sign which read cousintown. It was a boy-child, perhaps a big three and surely no more than five. On his face was an expression to which Sheridan had become exquisitely attuned. He was trying not to cry but soon would. Sheridan paused for a moment, feeling the familiar soft wave of self-disgust... though every time he took a child, that feeling grew a little less urgent. The first time he hadnt slept for a week. He kept thinking about that big greasy Turk who called himself Mr. Wizard, kept wondering what he did with the children. They go on a boat-ride, Mr. Sheridan, the Turk told him, only it came out Dey goo on a bot-rahd, Messtair Shurdunn. The Turk smiled. And if you know whats good for you, you wont ask any more about it, that smile said, and it said it loud and clear, without an accent. Sheridan hadnt asked any more, but that didnt mean he hadnt kept wondering. Especially afterward. Tossing and turning, wishing he had the whole thing to do over again so he could turn it around, so he could walk away from temptation. The second time had been almost as bad... the third time a little less... and by the fourth time he had almost stopped wondering about the botrahd, and what might be at the end of it for the little kids. Sheridan pulled his van into one of the handicap parking spaces right in front of the mall. He had one of the special license plates the state gave to crips on the back of his van. That plate was worth its weight in gold, because it kept any mall security cop from getting suspicious, and those spaces were so convenient and almost always empty. You always pretend you re not going out looking, but you always lift a crip plate a day or two before. Never mind all that bullshit; he was in a jam and that kid over there could solve some very big problems. He got out and walked towa