When Options A and B Both Suck

“When Options A and B Both Suck” is a chapter title that brings sardonic compression to a stretch of Mo’s life in which apparent choices offer little safety or comfort. Its force comes from the contrast between ordinary, even promising routines and a crisis that makes choosing feel less like freedom than survival.

Title and Context

The chapter opens on a modest success at the Blue Glacier Saloon: Mo’s chocolate chess squares sell well, and Buzz asks her to bring more the next day. Abner Golightly makes a domestic offer involving warm feet, a permanently reclined toilet seat, and even a color television if she will move in with him; Mo politely declines. The lightness of the exchange gives the title an ironic edge. Choices about food, work, and companionship appear manageable, but the chapter’s later danger strips away that ease.

A Choice Under Threat

In the alley, John Teague restrains Mo, twists her arm behind her back, and shoves her face against rough brick. He presents compliance as a choice while making the threat explicit: he says he does not want to hurt her, but will. His language of choice disguises coercion; neither answer can make the situation safe. The title’s blunt formulation fits a scene in which the alternatives are defined by danger rather than by Mo’s preferences.

Reversal and Action

A low growl announces the black wolf at the end of the alley. As it advances, John Teague’s grip loosens, but Mo sees no harmless escape: she fears being mauled by the wolf or remaining at the mercy of her attacker. Recalling her self-defense instructor’s advice, she kicks John Teague between the legs, then in the face, knocking him onto the pavement. The wolf does not turn on her. It keeps its attention on John Teague and edges past her toward him. The title’s bleak joke therefore meets a decisive reversal: Mo acts within a situation that offers no good option, and her choice interrupts the assault.

Aftermath and Resonance

The danger does not end with the alley. Later, Mo leaves Buzz’s office rather than continue discussing the attack and hides in the kitchen, struggling with memories of John Teague, the wolf, and the blood on her shoulder. At home, she sits outside watching the tree line, unable to settle; the scene’s images return again when the scrape of pavement and the sour smell of a Dumpster bring the alley back to mind. The title’s humor is thus not a denial of harm. Its clipped, comic phrasing sits against bodily fear and lingering distress, capturing the gap between the flippancy of naming two bad options and the cost of having to choose between them.