If you’re awaiting an event with bated breath, you’re scarcely breathing. Your breath is restrained.
If you’re awaiting an event with baited breath, you’ve been eating garlic.
The sky was burning with the soft pink and silver of a cloudless summer dawn.
Willa makes a quick sketch of daybreak.
‘b’ is true. The Pittsburgh Pirates of the early 1950s, much like the Pirates of today, were not a pretty sight. Gloria at second base certainly would have helped to remedy that situation.
‘d’ is a definite maybe. I mean, look.
‘a’, ‘c’, and ‘e’ are probably false, though all the research has not been collected and sifted.
Gloria Grahame:
a. was the unacknowledged great granddaughter of Hans Christian Andersen.
b. could have, if she felt like it, played second base for the Pittsburgh Pirates.
c. wrote three unpublished novels about string.
d. could kill with her laser death stare.
e. dumped a vat of tar on Shirley Jones.
Whoops. The loon accidentally drank his last quart of ‘special’ medicine.
The loon was granted an audience with the triffid Supreme Commander, Western Hemisphere. Somehow the loon has come to be regarded as a sort of mascot or good luck charm to the triffid forces. He thanks his lucky stars that he is not a vegetarian. In fact, he urges all vegetarians to get out the meatloaf recipes as soon as possible. Call it friendly advice from one who knows. You don’t have that much time.
The Man Who Glided Home spooned a generous dollop of lemon curd onto his toasted English muffin. He reached for the tumbler of freshly squeezed orange juice and quaffed it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rose from his chair, folded the English muffin in half and slid it neatly between his lips in preparation for mastication. He masticated. Crossing the kitchen, he reached for the doorknob to gain access to the stairway down to the cellar. Descending, he swallowed and ran the tip of his tongue around cheeks, teeth and gums in search of crumbs. Smiling with satisfaction, he rubbed his hands together in a modest display of controlled eagerness. He regarded the caged beast. The caged beast regarded The Man Who Glided Home.
“Now it’s time for some fun,” said The Man Who Glided Home.
The swells looked tired as they crested and fell apart on the beach, and gathered themselves and withdrew slowly, and got upright and fell toward the beach again.
Guy takes Raymond Chandler’s unfinished Poodle Springs to as good a conclusion as you’ll find anywhere in the sunny seams of L.A.
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
