“I am the satisfied owner of not one but two detached sheds,” admitted Jackson. “And that’s all I really care about. Well, that and ale, and the occasional plate of bread and cheese.”
Adrian Caliban, The Magnificent Egglestons.
“Who is blowing on that duck call?” wondered Miss Hawkins. “Certainly not Jack Gilbert. That is a wonderful young man.”
Stacie Knotts, Crazy Days.
“I will make that call. And not only soon, but very soon.” Trevor believed that even the most paltry TV ad deserved a direct oral response from the viewer.
Anselm Bligh, A Collection of Miniatures.
He was once believed to have been a member (in absentia) of the Boondoggle Brotherhood, also known as the Hoppity Hoopers. Not to mention his years as Hogenmeister of the Great Swogglers of the Horn, in the 1920s.
Will Southey, Government Cheese, the Novel.
Supporting the Caws
Andrew Tertullian, Pandora’s Ponderous Puns.
The categories are all we know. That is our knowledge.
Rollin Mungo, Selected Rants of Mr. Barraclough.
“I dropped my phone into the lake. I’ve lost it forever. There’s nothing left of me. I’m gone.”
Dennis Waverly, A Woman in Gray.
Such-and-such needs to be done.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
March 19, 2015. Never say “last.” I herewith add yet another—a final?— entry to my list of words to avoid using: our.
Reginald Boyington, Dear Dreadful Diary.
“So, you are trying to tell me—aren’t you?—that one might make a living off a magpie? A bird. I mean, if you trained him properly?”
Nicholas Bruhns, Otto, the Magpie.
dennis scharnberg 