Oily
TERMS OF USE
BY CLICKING “I AGREE” BELOW, YOU ACCEPT THE TERMS OF THIS
AGREEMENT REGARDING THE USE, RE-USE, ABUSE, AND NON-USE OF THIS PRODUCT
(“PRODUCT”) HENCEFORTH AND FOREVER, REGARDLESS OF NATURAL DISASTER; CHANGES TO
INTERNATIONAL, FEDERAL, STATE, AND LOCAL ORDINANCES; SPILLS OF TOXIC AND
NON-TOXIC SUBSTANCES; THE END OF LITERATURE AS A VIABLE ART FORM; AND ANY OTHER
FORESEEN OR UNFORESEEN EVENT OR PHENOMENON COVERED OR NOT COVERED BY ALL
EXPRESS OR IMPLICIT WARRANTIES.
I. ACCEPTANCE OF TERMS
Oily: A Novel (“Oily”) welcomes you. Oily provides you with the services
described below and herein according to the terms of this agreement, which may
be updated from time to time without notice to you. By accessing and using Oily’s services, you accept and agree to
be bound by the terms and provisions of the TOU. In addition, when discussing
the content of Oily with others
(including but not limited to friends, acquaintances, co-workers, family
members, and healthcare professionals), you agree to abide by certain articles
of the agreement and to represent the contents of Oily with an acceptable degree of accuracy, fairness, and
perspicacity, even if you do not know the meaning of “perspicacity.”
II.
DESCRIPTION OF SERVICES
Oily provides users with an account of fictional events
experienced and/or carried out by fictional characters. Any resemblance,
factual or perceived, between past, present, or future persons or events is
strictly coincidental or the result of author clairvoyance, for which the
creator of Oily shall not be held
responsible by any person, place, or thing. You understand that certain
resemblances between characters and events within this product and persons and
events in the real world (“reality”) are inevitable and by no means evidence of
fraud, slander, or malice of any kind. As an example, consider the fact that Oily begins with a character named
Warren, a resident of New Orleans, Louisiana (“NOLA”) unlocking the side door
of a small house and pushing into the house “with such energy that the door
didn’t stick and creak the way it always did on steamy spring days.” The
fictional character Warren (“Warren”) subsequently shouts “Penny,” at the same
time “betting that she is awake by now,” then further shouting, “You’ve got to
see this.” The product further states that by the time Warren gets to the
bedroom, Penny is raising herself up off the pillow, wincing a bit as she moves.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, the sand in her voice telling Warren that she had
still been asleep. Warren subsequently makes an effort to slow himself down,
taking a deep breath as he sits on the end of the bed, facing her. “I
found this thing. This weird thing,” he tells her, and she says, “Okay,” both
of them knowing (after a decade of marriage) that “okay” in this context means okay that’s not the first time you’ve said
“I found this thing” or its equivalent in the past year or so, ever since I got
sick and you started taking almost daily walks along the canal at the edge of
our neighborhood. I was sort of interested in the feathers and the desiccated
crab shell, but I was repulsed by the long orange nutria teeth you pulled from
a rotting skull. As your loving wife, I will listen with an open mind, even
though I’m not feeling particularly good this morning and for once I was
sleeping past eight, because if I did feel good I would be interested and I
would be out there with you ogling birds and watching fish jump. So let’s take
a minute and look at whatever it is, and then move on to my morning meds and
some strong ginger tea. Whereupon Warren nods, slowed further by the weight
of Penny’s “Okay.” The edges of his hair are sweaty. “I sat down in the grass
by this one little willow that grows right by the water. I stop there a lot.
Sometimes I see garfish hanging out in the shadows of the willow, and it’s just
a fairly peaceful spot,” he begins, and Penny says, “Uh-huh,” meaning Just show me whatever you found and let’s
move on. Warren grimaces apologetically (and Penny accepts his apology with
a blink) and begins to describe a sound he heard, “kind of like the sound of a
jet passing overhead, except quiet and only lasting a sec. Anyway, then I
looked down and found this.” He holds out his hand. A matte black object lies
across his palm. Penny shrugs. “Looks like a fat pen or something. Could you
maybe--.”
“Feel it,” Warren says.
“Is it clean?”
“It was just lying in the grass next to me, after I heard that
sound.” He extends his hand further, and Penny obliges, probably figuring doing
so might get her closer to morning meds and ginger tea. The object feels warm
and exceedingly smooth. Unlike a pen, it is seamless, pointless, and clipless.
Its ends are blunt, one with a little nib. A faint textured circle covers the
nibless end.
“Is it plastic or metal?” she asks.
“I can’t tell,” Warren says. “At first I thought it might be
some kind of stylus, maybe from the latest video game or whatever. For about a
minute I thought it came off a tree.”
“It looks exactly like an acorn.”
“Exactly! Like a long, black acorn with no cap.”
“Wow,” Penny says, and hands the object back to Warren. She does
her best to smile, glancing at the grove of medicine bottles on the bedside
table, her eyebrows raised helpfully.
Warren stands, pushing the black acorn into his jeans pocket. He
starts opening bottles, shaking out pills, and lining them up beside Penny’s
water glass. Two round white ones, a lavender one, a pink one, and an oblong
white one. Penny hands him the near-empty glass, like always. He nods and
stands up straight but hesitates before heading to the kitchen to refill the
glass and start the ginger tea. Penny looks up at him and tilts her head. “One
more thing,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“The acorn thing? I saw it fly.”
Penny cocks her head, widens her eyes. “Warren?” she calls, but
he is already halfway to the kitchen.
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