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[Info-gne] Fwd: Password


From: Odis Alford
Subject: [Info-gne] Fwd: Password
Date: Sun, 17 Dec 2006 23:30:11 -0500
User-agent: Pegasus Mail for Win32 (v2.53/R1)

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The challenges were constant. A larger shard poked out of her right cheek like the blade of a tomahawk. ("Virginia") Sandpiper hastened to assure him that she was not using his character to make money, nor did she have any plans in that direction — heaven forbid! The plainclothesman's self-conscious walk might be as deliberately deceptive as his sleepy look. When they turned into the driveway to reverse direction, Annie rushed out and screamed at them to get off her land before she shot them for the dirty dogs they were. At last she did come back and looked at him, smiling radiantly like a woman just awakening and realizing it was going to be a beautiful day. Then one of them will ask me, "This was last winter, Miss Wilkes, how could you be so positive?You're already responsible for that kid's death. But when Shinny came in. What — "No questions»he said hoarsely. An old duffer who had died of that all-time favorite»Long Illness. those blue eyes.

Always granting the eye of childhood, which tends to see anyone over the age of twenty-five as elderly, he thought Shinny must be a11 of seventy-five now. This comment, which would once have struck him as in a league with such banalities as You look so good I could just eat you up now seemed not banal at all. The door swung slowly open on darkness, and yes, there was Annie, there was the goddess, standing there in the shadows, a white shape in a nurse's uniform — He blinked his eyes tightly shut and then opened them. Eat it, Annie, suck on it, go on and eat it, be a Do-Bee and eat your book all up. He knew just how long because of the pen, the Flair Fine-Liner he had been carrying in his pocket at the time of the crash. He kept seeing the trooper coming back to life — some sort of life — out in the barn, sitting up, the loose hay with which Annie had covered him falling to either side of him and into his lap, his face plowed into bloody senselessness by the mower's blade. He reversed down the hall, fighting panic, reminding, himself he hadn't expected much from the front door anyway. Once — he would have sworn it was so — that hole had been as big as the bore of the Lincoln Tunnel. Nearly one whole arm of her cardigan sweater was soaked with a half-dried substance that smelled like gravy. His uniform shirt and pants were darkening with blood — small patches were slowly spreading, meeting other patches, growing bigger still. It would be nice to credit himself with such selfless motives, but it wasn't the truth. "Her tenderness did not extend to leaving the bedroom door unlocked, but this presented no problem. but as dry days became dry weeks became dry months, he had begun to wonder if there ever would be a next book. Let there be light (even of the hazy variety), and the light was good, and so on and so on? Now, breaking into these gloomy meditations, there came the healthy bawl of a child — his son, awake and more than ready for his afternoon meal. Annie was right; the story was turning out to be a good deal more gruesome than the other Misery books — the first chapter had not been a fluke but a harbinger. Glimmering on her wrists and fastening her to the lowest branch of the eucalyptus, which was the only tree in the clearing, was something the Bourkas had apparently taken a fancy to before sending Baron Heidzig into the mouth of the idol and to his undoubtedly terrible death: the Baron's blued steel handcuffs. That would have been like junking an expensive car just because of a broken spring. Confucius say if man want to grow one row of corn, first must shovel one ton of shit. You and all your poker cronies — who probably control this whole minor-league ballpark of a town probably played a hand of Lowball or something to see who got this shit detail. She giggled like a child at the jokes on M*A*S*H* and WKRP, laughing especially hard at the jokes which were mildly off-color (which, in the case of WKRP, was most of them. Although the picture accompanying the obit was even grainier and fuzzier than usual, Paul saw that Paulette Simeaux made "Queenie»Beaulifant look like Thumbelina.


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