Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
Day had gotten a little nervous during one session when the doctor asked God how he would handle someone hurting Day now and his lover responded by jerking one side of his leather coat open and pulling his long blade from its sheathe. __asy, I__ cut their fucking arm off and beat the shit out of them with it,_ he__ said. But Day quickly started laughing and told the concerned doctor that his partner was just playing. After popping God hard in his stomach, God agreed and said he was indeed joking. When the doctor went back to writing on her legal pad, God mouthed to him, __o I__ not.
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Day had gotten a little nervous during one session when the doctor asked God how he would handle someone hurting Day now and his lover responded by jerking one side of his leather coat open and pulling his long blade from its sheathe. __asy, I__ cut their fucking arm off and beat the shit out of them with it,_ he__ said. But Day quickly started laughing and told the concerned doctor that his partner was just playing. After popping God hard in his stomach, God agreed and said he was indeed joking. When the doctor went back to writing on her legal pad, God mouthed to him, __o I__ not.
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Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
How happy I might be, if only she was less greedy, better tempered, not addicted to raking up old grudges, more affectionate, with slightly yellower hair, slimmer, and about twenty years younger! But what is the good of expecting such a woman to reform?
There are some young almond tress, which ordinarily look as if drawn by a childish hand. Now, as the wind sets their weak branches gibbering, they seem like shamanistic scratches on the white bone of the brittle bright night.