Continuing to read the
Corrections. Allow me to quote a particularly
potent little bit here:
It seemed as if, in every motel that he stayed in, he had neighbours who fornicated like no tomorrow- men of ill breeding and poor discipline, women who chuckled and screamed. At 1 am in Erie, Pennsylvania, a girl in the next room ranted and panted like a strumpet. Some slick, worthless fellow having his way with her. Alfred blamed this girl for taking it easy. (Franzen, 2008. p.335)
It's mostly that the wording makes me chuckle as well. Like a strumpet.
Anyway this morning, you will be impressed to know, I cooked breakfast for 18 people. And then I went and battered them all with the coffee pot until they gave me acceptable acknowledgement. I think the best I got was a "fantastic."
They call me the "egg-slinger."
The b'andb's regular seagull, Gilbert, has been turning up in the morning with a bloody stumpy leg instead of his usual, perky, left foot. We think it is broken and he has been bleeding all over the bannisters at the back deck, about a metre away from the dining guests. This is not only a safety hazard but also rather worrisome. Gilbert's mate Sally (Sullivan until Marketa caught them "doing it") has been screaming non stop from the roof-tops, although she stops if you tell her to shut up. Seagulls are clever, that's all. Gilbert will stare down at his injured leg then right into your eyes. "Help me, goddamn it" He's been getting breakfast for 9 years.
Home day after tomorrow
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