|[Gwm-general] Fwd: DEAL
|Thu, 14 Sep 2006 10:37:05 -0400
D`ont lose your chance a
But, Paul. Goodbye, Paul. His first cursory glance had taken in the shelves with their stacks of folded sheets and pillow-cases and washcloths and towels. The hypothetical old prude might have run screaming from the sight of Misery, but her screams would have been caused by terror and revulsion rather then outraged propriety. Maybe he could break his back, and that would take his mind off his legs for awhile. It was probably this universal concurrence that had saved Billford's practice if not his head following the ghastly denouement. He looked past her and saw she had turned the typewriter around before waking him; it grinned resplendently at him with its missing tooth, telling him it was all right to hope and noble to strive, but in the end it was doom alone which would count.That was the lesson of the dream which was really a memory. Open the door, for God's sake! ""They never go. Soft food, invalid food. all over.
But he had already decided that credibility depended on the two live burials»being related somehow, and Misery had succumbed in her bedroom. Paul got the lighter fluid and rolled across to the spot by the window where his informal little writer's camp was pitched: here was the typewriter with the three missing teeth in its unpleasant grin, here the wastebasket, here the pencils and pads and typing paper and piles of scrap-rewrite, some of which he would use and some of which would go into the wastebasket. Some people have appointments in Samarra; I think you may well have had one with a pile of laundry or a dead cat on a flight of stairs. Not more than a day or two after they left, Miss Charlotte Evelyn-Hyde of Storping-on-Firkill had been found dead on the back lawn of her home, Cove o'Birches. When she came in he thought at first that she must be a dream, but then reality or mere brute survival took over and he began to moan and beg and plead, all of it broken, all of it coming from a deepening well of unreality. "The wagon had barely stopped before one of the rear doors flew open and a guy dressed in combat-fatigue pants and a Deadhead tee-shirt leaped out. "Annie Annie oh Annie please please no please don't Annie I swear to you I'll be good I swear to God I'll be good please give me a chance to be good OH ANNIE PLEASE LET ME BE GOOD "Just a little pain. Having a novel end exactly the way you thought it would when you started out would be like shooting a Titan missile halfway around the world and having the payload drop through a basketball hoop. "He looked up, startled out of the story's deep dream Geoffrey who had turned out to be very much the hero of this one had just come face to face with the hideous queen bee, whom he would have to battle to the death for Misery's life. But when the farmer in the story finally did that, all he had was a dead goose and a bunch of worthless guts! "But if you pay this five hundred and six dollars before "And seventeen cents,»she put in fiercely. "I don't think he can get that pin, folks it's been a fan-tas-tic effort, but I'm afraid this is where it all ends. She looked bigger that way, with her shoulders rounding the pink housecoat, her hair like some battered helmet. They had found her outside of Misery the pig's stall, with one hand wrapped around the handle of her chainsaw. Maybe she thought the kerosene would evaporate before the candle burned all the way down. He closed his eyes and saw Annie removing the jack and squeezing Elmer's Glue into the hole in the module. On September 9th she went on trial for the murder of Girl Christopher, a female child one day of age. He had begun lifting it and setting it down whenever he was penned in the chair behind it and she was out of the room. When Paul had dropped over to see him one day, he had found Gary's shades drawn and a black crepe fluff on the door. "He lay back, put his arm over his eyes, and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. "I don't mind the idea of them but these noises are fearsome spooky, so they are, and I hardly even like to go near the churchyard and I have to dig a grave for the little Roydman babe tomorrow, so I do. That tone coming from a cop would have been amusing under other circumstances, but these were not other circumstances and Paul was not amused.
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