Southpaw Jones

I’m writing a novel starting today. On this here blog, no less. I have no plan. I have no outline, no characters. I’ve never written a novel before. It’s time. No more excuses. It’s called, let’s see, um, Separation of Church and Kate: A Novel. Wish me luck:

Roland was only five feet from Marvin when he shot him three times. Marvin shot Roland, I should clarify. Would there have been a shooting had they been “she” and “her”? Debatable.

One thing you could feed to a truth-eating dragon is this: Marvin felt no remorse. He even giggled a little when he pulled the trigger, loaded the BB, pumped the pump, pulled the trigger, loaded the BB, pumped the pump, and pulled the trigger a final time with a flare of elder satisfaction.

He owed his younger brother three shots in the butt for the supposedly not-on-purpose breaking of his favorite vase. He had named it “Glacier Blue.” Most boys liked to play with action figures, tanks, and rope swings, but Marvin preferred his vase collection. And since you can’t punish annoying little brats with a vase, he also kept a clean air rifle, as at-the-ready as an air rifle can be.

TO BE CONTINUED

My generation of radicals and breakers-down never found anything to take the place of the old virtues of work and courage and the old graces of courtesy and politeness.
F. Scott Fitzgerald

suicide food: animals that desire to be eaten. sickening.




One clue whose answer consists of two rhyming words:

Old Mr. Wind just has to blow. He has no choice but to puff. And when the world needs a stiff, quick blast, he simply…

Highlight here for answer: [must gust]



Thursday, October 11th, 2007
8:00 PM
Flipnotics at the Triangle
4600 Guadalupe
Austin, TX
(512) 380-0097
http://www.flipnotics.com
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