[lit-ideas] Re: Having read ths first page, would you turn turn to page 2?

If I were in a Terry Pratchett sort of mood I might.

John

On 7/30/07, Mike Geary <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
>      It was a Friday night, and true to form, Danny the Dervish was pacing
> the sidewalk in front of Boss Crump's Barrelhouse.  A long-legged man and
> lean as a whippet, he'd walk the length of the building, high stepping as if
> he were crossing a furrowed field, his bone-jutty body bobbing to a bass
> that rattled windows a block away.  Jim Moreman, the doorman, stood in the
> doorway watching him, stood with clenched face and folded arms, watching
> Danny through narrowed Charlie Chan eyes, but Danny would not look at him.
> Would not.  Would not.  Would not. Would not.
>      Moreman was three of Danny.  He had arms as thick as thighs and was a
> doorway wide.  Right tackle for the University of Memphis for three seasons,
> then the injury came crashing down on him.  Nasty stuff that.  Took out his
> future.  The pro career, the cars, the checks, the chicks, all gone in the
> snap of an instant.  Pity.
>      Danny wouldn't look at Moreman as he marched by, but kept his eyes
> focused on the walk ten feet ahead.  At the corner, he would turn to walk
> west where at edge of the building, the Reverend Tubal Lygacean was
> preaching, bible in his left hand, his right hand nailing home the message.
> Roosevelt Chanting, his devoted disciple, sat on a plastic milk crate behind
> him, leaning against the wall  of the building and fanning himself with a
> folded copy of the Memphis Flyer and throwing in Amens as the spirit moved
> him.  Danny wouldn't cross in front of Tubal, he could tell the man was
> wild, but wild with God or with the devil he didn't know and so three feet
> from him, Danny would suddenly twirl and pace the other way without ever
> letting  their eyes meet.  Danny would never make eye contact with anyone,
> because, he believed, eyes are spirit portals.  Talking to him could be a
> bit disconcerting as he would look at your nose or forehead or mouth or chin
> or mole, but never your eyes.  Yet he was watching everything, you could be
> sure of that. Nothing seemed to escape his awareness.  And though he would
> not look at Moreman, he was watching him, watching them both, watching with
> his third eye, you can be sure of that.  Oh, yes, he was watching, walking
> and watching, watching and waiting for his chance to get in.  And sometimes
> he would be able to sneak in.  Not often, but sometimes when Moreman would
> be busy with a bounce then quick as a pounce Danny would be inside only to
> be collared and tossed out to await the appointed hour.  Such was their
> private dance.
>
>
> Mike Geary
>
>
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-- 
John McCreery
The Word Works, Ltd., Yokohama, JAPAN
Tel. +81-45-314-9324
http://www.wordworks.jp/
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