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[Osip-dev] Your invoice

From: Naomi Link
Subject: [Osip-dev] Your invoice
Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2007 14:28:45 -0600
Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2007 14:28:45 -0600
User-agent: Mozilla 4.61 [en]C-CCK-MCD C-UDP; (Win98; I)

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"Annie screamed now. Mutt and Jeff. And here came the car, with Rocket Man still trying to put on the brakes or bash the door open, and then. The shadows remained on the melting snowpack of Annie's driveway for about five minutes. Annie stood watching them go, the rifle held in one hand, and then she came slowly back into the house. It was not grief, this feeling, although she was nearly overwhelmed with grief — this was a strange, thundery feeling that she couldn't ever remember having before. The eye of the outside world, which had slipped away from the Dragon Lady these last few years, had now returned with a vengeance.She had died a mostly unexpected death. It has a sign over the door that says that. 1 or No. The joke was, Charlie wouldn't care. Without Misery, there would simply be no life left for him, or in him.

He used the bedpan and it hurt to piss and he realized with some dismay that a urinary infection was probably setting in. He had been hearing the same nothing ever since the squeak of the bedsprings announced her lying down at four o'clock in the afternoon. He felt it happening, and in desperation he pushed upward as hard as he could, turned the knob, and shoved at the door. It was the first time this had happened in some days, and he wondered uneasily if it meant she was slipping into the lower part of her cycle. Enough so he had gone into what she called respiratory depression at least once. Was he going to let it stay there, or was he going to be a man and sick the fucking thing up? "Almost over,»she said, and turned the valve, and now the ground sheet caught fire around the stump that was no longer bleeding, the stump that was as black as the pig's hide had been when they had brought it out of — Eileen had turned away but Paul had watched, fascinated, as they pulled off the pig's crackling skin as easily as you might skim off a sweater after a football game. Neatly written in black ink below the clipping was: Bakersfield Journal, May 30th, 1938. He looked past her and saw she had turned the typewriter around before waking him; it grinned resplendently at him with its missing tooth, telling him it was all right to hope and noble to strive, but in the end it was doom alone which would count. Sitting already hurt; the pain would be monstrous by the time she got back, even if she hurried. He caught the rocker almost at once and pushed it up, drawing the lock's tongue along with it. It turned on an outside light, which came in handy — the last of the daylight had drained away during the time since he had left his room. When she took her lips away this time he did not let her breath out but pushed it and whooped in a gigantic breath of his own. The reason authors almost always put a dedication on a book, Annie, is because their selfishness even horrifies themselves in the end. Annie apparently not only pinched and slapped herself when she was feeling depressed. The stink of the furniture polish was making his head ache, and he was growing steadily more nauseated. It gave off the oddly interrogative squeak that told him it was the closet where she kept her outdoors stuff. "Christ, she's had a heart attack, he thought, and there was a moment's alarm which was immediately replaced by joy. He bent over, ignoring the pain in his legs, and began to work the loose section of baseboard out with his fingers. That's a lot of bags for a few scraps of cloth, Paul thought, but he knew that she would have plenty to put in them before she was done. Oh, what a variety of strange and poisonous flowers grew beside Annie's version of that quaint old path! Crying a little, he rolled the wheelchair over to his wastebasket and buried the wet wads of Kleenex under the wastepaper.

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