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re [18]

From: Harold Dyer
Subject: re [18]
Date: Mon, 27 Feb 2006 05:16:59 -0300

Short. Brooke Burke Robert Blake He sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring the flare of pain which shot up his legs.

He selected the longest butcher-knife and went back to his room, pausing to rub away the hub-marks on the sides of the doorway. "GAW. No TV. His body yelling for Novril. His thighs, crotch, even his penis, were all still mottled with fading bruises. "Come on,»he muttered, his arm over his eyes — this was the way he thought best, the way he imagined best. Then he had been still and let her give him the injection and this time the Betadine had gone over his left thumb as well as the blade of the knife (when she turned it on and the blade began to saw rapidly back and forth in the air the Betadine flew in a spray of maroon droplets she seemed not to notice) and in the end of course there had been much redder droplets spraying into the air as well. in 1938

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