“Captions for photographs,” mused Vincent. “Now, that is something I might be good at.”
Will Southey, Government Cheese, the Novel.
“I am stupid!” cried Harold. “Just plain stupid.” What a wonderful thing that is for a man to discover. At the age of forty.
Brendan Shaughnessy, Lobsters and Clams, a Novel.
“Create your own truth.” When the self is the only unquestioned value, that is the message.
Anthony Scowling, The Beat Paradigm.
January 25, 2010. Another hideous-word alert: “interestingly.”
Reginald Boyington, Dear Dreadful Diary.
wrotten
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
“I practice mirror gazing,” admitted Howard. “Therefore, I am.”
Trent Bendix, Grieving for Margaret.
It was one of those old-fashioned beer steins—ceramic with a pewter cap. Sheila could tell that there was something inside, something hard that rattled a bit when she grabbed the handle. But what was it? And who put it in there? All of a sudden Sheila Giddings knew something. Knew one particular thing. That she did not want to lift the cap and look inside that dusty old mug.
Leslie M. Dow, The Murder in the Meadow.
“If you do that again, I will rip your face right off the bone!” That’s what he said, Constable. Just like that. So I listened to him. Indeed I did.
Harrison Wilmer, The Michaelmas Killer.
“Form follows function.” Of course, the modernist architects did not really believe such things. It was just something that was said. Their actual motivations resided at a more infantile level.
Gunnar Grimes, The Persistence of Vision.
“…tatted-up, nose-ringed screeching shit weasels. In short, my peers.”
Lawrence Bird, A Catalog of Errors.
dennis scharnberg 