roger bevins iii
When one owns four homes and has fifteen full-time gardeners perfecting one’s seven gardens and eight man-made streams, one will, of necessity, spend a great deal of time racing between homes and from garden to garden, and so it is perhaps not surprising if, one afternoon, rushing to check on the progress of a dinner one’s cook is preparing for the board of one’s favorite charity, one finds oneself compelled to take a little rest, briefly dropping to one knee, then both knees, then pitching forward on to one’s face and, unable to rise, proceeding here for a more prolonged rest, only to find it not restful at all, since, while ostensibly resting, one finds oneself continually fretting about one’s carriages, gardens, furniture, homes, et al., all of which (one hopes) patiently await one’s return, not having (Heaven forfend) fallen into the hands of some (reckless, careless, undeserving) Other.
percival “dash” collier Mr. Collier (shirt clay-stained at the chest from his fall, nose crushed nearly flat) was constantly compelled to float horizontally, like a human compass needle, the top of his head facing in the direction of whichever of his properties he found himself most worried about at the moment.
The top of his head was now facing west. Our arrival causing his worrying to wane, he let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure, bobbed up to vertical, turned to face us.
hans vollman
Mr. Collier, said Mr. Vollman.
Mr. Vollman, said Mr. Collier.
roger bevins iii
A new property-worry then crossing his mind, he was thrown violently forward, stomach down, and, with a grunt of dread, spun to face north.
hans vollman
XXXIX.
Next we must short-cut through that swampy little section populated by our very lowest.
hans vollman
They sought the damp and moonless feeling here.
roger bevins iii
Here stood Mr. Randall and Mr. Twood, in perpetual conversation.
hans vollman
Rendered mutually inarticulate by we knew not what misfortune.
roger bevins iii
Faces reduced to gauzy unreadable smudges.
hans vollman
Torsos gray and shapeless but for the slightest torpedo-shaped suggestion of arms and legs.
roger bevins iii
Indistinguishable except that Mr. Twood’s movements retained a touch more vitality. Every now and then, as if making an attempt at persuasion, one of his arm-like appendages would pop up, as if to indicate, on a shelf, something to which he wished to call Mr. Randall’s attention.
hans vollman
Mr. Twood having been, we believed, in the retail line.
roger bevins iii
Drag out the big signage Immediately put it away again Drag it out again Not let slip from grasp Significantly reduced women’s.
mr. benjamin twood
In response, the gray faceless wedge that had been Mr. Randall would sometimes enact a little dance.
roger bevins iii
Yield the seat Here’s a fellow who can really Tinkle the twinklers And the blokeat the piano would proffer his Then it was all me.
jasper randall
Sometimes, near sunrise, when all of the other swamp denizens were weary and depleted and had self-stacked and gone mute near the lightning-blasted black oak, Mr. Randall could be found bowing over and over again, as if to an imagined audience.
roger bevins iii
Leading us to surmise that he must have been a performer of some type.
hans vollman
Thank you thank you thank you!
jasper randall
EXTRAORDINARY VALUE WITHIN: Only recall your thin weary mother who mightyet be saved By the auto-iron, the cranking grater, the cold-box, the auto-salter, her once-fine posture revived, her winsome kindsmile revived, as of yore, when, in shortknees, you sported a branchsaber among the general pie-odor.
mr. benjamin twood
Slam, arpeggio, pause for smokedrink When I slammed a good one, small ripples would appear in the golden drink set before.
jasper randall
Any admiration we might once have felt for their endurance had long since devolved into revulsion.
roger bevins iii
Were we destined for a similar fate?
hans vollman
We thought not.
roger bevins iii
(Regularly scanned each other’s features for any indication of facial-smudging.) hans vollman
(Continually monitored ourselves for the slightest degradation in diction.) roger bevins iii
And they were far from the worst.
hans vollman
Consider Mr. Papers.
roger bevins iii
Essentially a cringing gray supine line.
hans vollman
Of whom one would only become aware once one had stumbled over him.
roger bevins iii
Cannery anyhelpmate? Come. To. Heap me? Cannery help? Can any wonder? Help. Conneg ayone heap? Unclog? May?
Place hepMay.
l. b. papers
We had no idea what Mr. Papers might previously have been.
roger bevins iii
There being so little of him remaining.
hans vollman
Go on Move along Else receive an unglad message in your bentover I’ll come right up under and ventilate your undertenting.
flanders quinn
Flanders Quinn.
hans vollman
Former robber.