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""That's what I call my place upcountry. Now I must rinse, he thought. That prescient part of his mind saw her before he knew he was seeing her, and must surely have understood her before he knew he was understanding her — why else did he associate such dour, ominous images with her? "The man who wrote these pages was in a rather gruesome frame of mind, my dear, Paul thought. At first he had been able to work only in painfully short bursts — fifteen minutes, maybe half an hour if the story really demanded it of him. He meant to get out if he could rain or no rain; this was his chance and this time he meant to take it. He had seen her low before, but he'd seen nothing like this; he wondered if she'd ever had a low as low as this before.No more low tide. If you had kept your mouth shut, I would have sent him on his way. Darvocet. Better that way. He did not look through that hole in the paper to see Annie, or please Annie.
In practical terms, what had happened following the thumbectomy and ensuing bout of fever was obvious. If she shot Goliath first, she might very well be able to put a slug in David's face before he could get that oogy goddam coat unbuttoned and his gun out. She was a woman full of tornadoes waiting to happen, and if he had been a farmer observing a sky which looked the way Annie's face looked right now, he would have at once gone to collect his family and herd them into the storm cellar. The possibility Colter had raised, however faint, was too hideous to merit much in the way of consideration. A look of sincere concentration was good because it flattered them, and when editors were flattered, they would sometimes give in on some of their mad ideas. If a class was boring, or if I had to babysit Mrs Krenmitz's four brats downstairs. Ought to've had a special rendition of "Annie, Won't You Come by Here", sung by the Mormon Tabersnackle Choir, Paul thought, and did the Donkey some more. He looked at her, alarmed, understanding that she meant to leave him without his medication again, and sitting up this time, as well. You see, I began by loving only the part of you that makes such wonderful stories, because that's the only part I had — the rest of you I didn't know anything about, and I thought that part might really be quite unpleasant. He did not even relax when he heard the side door slam and lock, followed by splashing steps outside. She stood lightly poised in the doorway, her chestnut hair with its mysterious deep-red glints like dying embers flowing over her shoulders in gorgeous profusion. "Annie, do you remember telling me what a little kid says to his mother when she catches him playing with the cleaning fluid under the sink and makes him stop? His publishers had put the book on a very fast track, and considering the world-wide headlines generated by the bizarre circumstances under which the novel had been written, that was hardly surprising. This book, he began to understand, was a gothic novel, and thus was more dependent on plot than on situation. She seized him with panicky strength and pulled him into an upright sitting position. Some hunter will find it in two years or five years or seven years, all rusty and with chipmunks nesting in the seats, and by then you will have finished my book and will be back in New York or Los Angeles or wherever it is you decide to go, and I'll be living my quiet life out here. For a moment Geoffrey Alliburton was not sure who the old man at the door was, and this was not entirely because the bell had awakened him from a deepening doze. So I took a look at the things I keep in the downstairs bathroom — they're mostly samples I brought home off and on while I was working; you should see all the stuff that just goes roiling around in hospitals, Paul! The darkness had prologued the pain and the storm-cloud; he began to remember what had prologued the darkness as she told him what had happened to him. If the cruiser hadn't been parked exactly where it was, and if the trooper hadn't gotten exactly as close to it as he had before Annie struck him, the mower would almost surely have tipped over, spilling her off. I guess I'll go in on foot and check when the water goes down a little, but I'm almost positive it's safe. But instead of weeping with exalted grief as she should have done when Misery expired giving birth to the boy whom Ian and Geoffrey would presumably raise together, she was mad as hell.
Received on Thu Oct 12 2006 - 11:00:27 EDTThis archive was generated by hypermail 2.2.0 : Thu Oct 12 2006 - 11:03:44 EDT