#silly billy she is cooking to death

[ochiody]

aff ref sheet done :) also for artfight

you can find her here!

[kkat-astrophic]

Tierlist!

My Danganronpa Opinion Tier-list (With rankings, EX./10 and reasons why they're ranked that way below.) (I've only played the first two games, so the V3 ones might not be accurate.)

SOME SPOILERS AHEAD

FAVOURITES:

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - AMAZING CHARACTER, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, LITERALLY KIN HIM SO MUCH, love the VA, hated his death and trial. - 10/10

Mondo Owada - He's also the best, I love his design, his character, his VA, his motive, his trial, his execution was kinda.... BUT I STILL LOVE MONDO - 10/10

Sonia Nevermind - She's so funny and her ftes are great! So good and love her in trials. Great VA, sondam is awesome. - 9/10

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu - Great Ch.Development after chp2 love him so much. - 9/10

Gundham Tanaka - I love him SO MUCH he's amazing and funny and his execution made me cry alot. Sondam for life - 9/10

I just realised Ishida wasn't on this list but Jill/Syo was, so I'm putting him below:

#. Kiyondo Ishida - Literally an icon. Wished he was in a trial with Syo. 8.8/10

Love:

6. Sayaka Maizono - I used to hate her lol, love this queen. - 8.7/10

7. Mikan Tsumiki - I might get hate for this one... - 8.5/10

8. Sakura Ogami - A sweetheart and a hero - 8.3/10

9. Chihiro Fujisaki - He's so cute I wanna pat him on the head - 8.3/10

10. Akane Owari - Underrated, love her. - 8/10

11. Hajime Hinata - Best Protag - 7.9/10

12. Kaito Momota - He believes in Gonta - 7.8/10

13. Shuichi Saihara - Pretty cool ngl I like him :3 - 7.8/10

14. Ryoma Hoshi - Underrated like Akane - 7.7/10

Like/Love:

15. Chiaki Nanami - Her FTEs are cute. Noble character. Love her. - 7.6/10

16. Nagito Komaeda - A TINY bit overrated but I still love him - 7.5/10

17. Aoi Asahina - Relatable Queen - 7.4/10

18. Genocider Syo/Jill - She's much funnier than Toko tbh. - 7.4/10

19. Byakuaya Togami - Why did I put him next to Syo lol - 7.3/10

20. Kazuichi Souda - Shark guy. Funny. He's pretty good :) - 7.2/10

21. Peko Pekoyama - Sweet character, AMAZING EXECUTION - 7.1/10

22. Nekomaru Nidai - SO UNDERRATED - 7/10

23. Kaede Akamatsu - Probably would put higher if I had played V3 - 7/10

24. Gonta Gokuhara - Super nice and sweet :) - 7/10

25. K1-B0 (Keebo) - He's actually a cutie patootie - 7/10

Like:

26. Makoto Naegi - THE CUTIE PATOOTIE - 6.9/10

27. Kyoko Kirigiri - Nice, but I couldn't love her character like everybody else tbh- - 6.8/10

28. Leon Kuwata - Chill dude, him and Ibuki probs good friends. - 6.7

29. Kokichi Ouma - He's pretty cool, good VA, cooked in his trial. - 6.7

30. Ibuki Mioda - Funny, sweet, a tiny bit overrated. My mum called her a furry once- - 6.5

31. Monokuma - How can you not like the mascot y'all- - 6.4 bc he killed my faves :,)

32. Rantaro Amami - He's cool, but idk him well. Wish we got to see his character more. - 6.3

33. Korekiyo Shinguji - Chill guy, interesting, weird subplot. - 6.2

34. Himiko Yumeno - Overhated tbh, cute, nice, cries a bit too much. - 6.1/10

35. Maki Harukawa - Not a big fan of the quiet brooding ch. but Idk her well so I won't judge too much. :) - 6/10

Neutrual - Like:

36. Celestia Ludenburg - She's pretty cool, trash motive, lied about Taka. That's the reason she isn't higher. 5.9/10

37. Toko Fukawa - A bit creepy, weird, but I still like her. Glad she survived tho tbh. - 5.8/10

38. Tenko Chabashira - Idk her charcater, I just know her "degenerate male" thingy, which is... interesting... no hate tho - 5.7/10

39. Mukuro Ikusaba - Wish she was in THH longer! OMG FAKE-JUNKO WAS SO COOL! Didn't see enough of her to rate higher. - 5.6/10

40. Izuru Kamakura - Cool concept, overrated tho- 5.5/10

41. Junko Enoshima - Cool ch. shit motive. Killed my faves- 5.3/10

42. Imposter/"Byakuya" - Good in SDR2 but didn't see enough of him :( - 5.2/10

43. Usami/Monomi - Cute mascot but I skipped her ALL of her dialogue because she annoyed TF out of me. - 5.1/10

44. Tsumugi Shirogane - GREAT VA but, I kinda don't know what to think about her. - 5.1/10

Neutral:

45. Yasuhiro Hagakure - A bit of a silly-billy, I dunno how he survived. He's closer to like than dislike tho. 5/10

46. Kirumi Tojo - She has the same VA as Hiyoko. HOW. Anyways, talented VA, cool execution, wish we got to see more of her tho. 5/10

47. Monodam - Apparently not as bad at the other ones? Byakuyas VA- 5/10

Neutral-Dislike:

48. Angie Yonaga - PRETTY DESIGN, GREAT VA, still not sure about her tho tbh... 4.6/10

49. Mahiru Koizumi - Boring, annoying, complains alot tbh, had great potential which wasn't used well. - 4.4/10

50. Teruteru Hanamura - Kinda... interesting. Surprisingly humane motive. I actually prefer him to Mahiru now... 4.3/10 (changed to 4.5/10)

Dislike:

51. Miu Iruma - There's alot to say about this girl... uh... 4.2/10

52. Hiyoko Saionji - Insufferable. I hate her, WHINY AND ANNOYING, I skipped all her dialogue. 3/10

53. Hifumi Yamada - I hate him, but I put him in this category bc why not. Skipped all of his dialogue, he annoyed me so much. I ignored him. He killed Taka for no reason. 2.5/10 because he was helpful in one trial.

HATE:

All the Monokubs, except I forgot their names. Incest weirdos, no point in the whole thing. 2/10

Anyway, my ranking is a bit controversial, so tell me what you guys think! <3

[ragegrove]

vcnusians​:

“not  even  for  half  a  second.”  she  shakes  her  head  and  gives  him  a  sweet  smile,  owning  it.  she  wouldn’t  pretend  to  have  feelings  she  doesn’t,  she  just  isn’t  wired  to  think  like  that  and  she  stands  by  everything  she  said.  whether  he  wants  to  interpret  her  glowing  smile  as  part  of  a  played  out  joke  or  real  is  his,  because  it  fit  well  with  the  silliness  of  the  topic  but  were  her  starry  eyes  not  convincing  enough  ?  “…sidekick ?”  she  echoes  with  amusement  and  a  little  laugh,  tilting  her  face  and  giving  him  a  skeptical  look.  that’s  an  interesting  word  choice,  like  he’s  trying  to  downplay  something  but  she  goes  with  it.  picturing  herself  in  their  sunny  kitchen,  cooking  him  pancakes  in  the  morning  because  somehow  that’s  the  image  her  mind  gives  her.  “mmm…  i’m  sure  i  can  handle  it.  i’d  probably  be  the  one  driving  you  crazy,  if  i  don’t  already.  don’t  sell  yourself  short,  now.”  cindy  smirks  playfully,  wondering  if  it’s  really  so  hard  for  him  to  process  that  she  even  likes  being  around  him.  she  could  play  coy  and  hide  that  with  a  veil  of  mystique,  but  she’s  starting  to  notice  patterns  and  see  how  his  mind  works  and  it’s  better  to  be  transparent  so  that  he  knows.  she  doesn’t  want  him  to  have  to  question  that.  after  all,  this  mall  trip  was  another  reason  to  make  today  last  even  after  an  emotional  meltdown  earlier.  doesn’t  it  say  something  ?  she  gasps  with  an  expression  of  pretend  shock  as  they  pass  the  victim,  manicured  hand  on  her  chest.  “me ?!  what ?  i  did  no  such  thing,  innocently  eating  my cookie…”  she even bats her lashes, looking as angelic as possible just for show but she’s smiling, enjoying his humor. eyes  widen  in  surprise  at  billy’s  suggestion,  a  pink  tint  ghosting  her  cheeks  and  she  pauses  for  a  second.  then,  a  kittenish  smile.  “ohhh,  a  lingerie  fashion  show?  vctoria’s  secret  is  the  store  for  that.  but  we’ll  see,  if  i’m  feeling  nice.”  she  teases  back  with  a  songful  laugh,  striding  happily  to  the  big  jcpenney  at  the  end  of  the  mall.

“mhm.” a short mumble of confirmation, but in reality she’s that person he always wanted as a best friend while growing up and feeling so lonely all the time. a younger version of himself would’ve liked being around cindy a long time ago. “what’s so hard about living with you?” realizing he might be giving himself away, he’s only made it hard because he hasn’t wanted to accept her into his life for his own reasons that solely have to do with him having trust issues. but that’s why she’s here so far, cause she doesn’t have a real way of getting on his nerves like most people.

“well, well, well. we’ve officially hit the bottom of cindy land.” there’s a giant bar, an entire bright selection lit up in makeup, perfumes, jewelry right in the middle of the store as soon as one enters underneath the white JCPENNEY sign. then there’s a million racks of different clothing for different people. i just died in your arms tonight playing from the speakers, giving it a cool rock feel in all this explosion of feminine stuff. his arm brushing against the rack of bras after they’ve made a few steps in, naturally and curiously he looks down at how huge the ones sticking out are once he notices what’s rubbing against him. “god,” vocal about how huge this white one is, triple d or something it says, picking it up and holding it up to see it, “is this your size, cindy?” a rotten joke followed by a laugh, thinking he could stay in this section ALL day. “nah, this is leann’s size. death by titty suffocation.”

[96thdayofrage]

Aretha Franklin was larger than life. Her voice, her physical presence, her personality, her place in musical history. Everything about Aretha was big. To appropriately portray the scope of her story, and everything she represented, the treatment must be larger than life.

National Geographic’s 8-part series, “Genius: Aretha” does the exact opposite.

To begin with, there’s a reason they call television “the small screen.” It’s not a medium for epic storytelling, or anything with significant scope. The way the series is shot feels very much like daytime television, rather than a cinematic experience. But that alone isn’t what makes this story feel so small.

The opening title sequence of each episode contains music that sounds like a midi track from an old video game — a bizarre musical choice to set the tone for a story about Aretha Franklin, a brilliant and inspiring musician who was named the #1 greatest singer of all time by Rolling Stone Magazine.

Suzan Lori-Parks’ script diminishes The Queen of Soul to a mere caricature. The dialogue is so poorly written, it becomes a distraction to the story. Throughout the overlong show, Parks takes tangential details and tries to make them absurdly momentous. And worse, she reduces some of Franklin’s grandest moments into side notes, or skips them entirely. For example, we see Aretha (barely) react to the announcement of Dr. King’s death. But why did they gloss over the fact that Aretha sang at his funeral? Instead, the episode included a fictional scene of Aretha and MLK flirting during a smoke break. A classic example of sacrificing an iconic moment, for a silly (and untrue) scene in its place.

The entire show feels like an effort to confuse the audience as to what time period it’s supposed to be in. This is partially due to the scattered direction from Anthony Hemingway. The flashbacks are confusing, in part because some are in black and white, while others are in color. Stylistically, the black and white treatment never works because the picture looks as bright and clear as if it was shot yesterday. Nothing else was done to make the “old” scenes look old.

Another authenticity problem is the gospel music sung by young Aretha. While Shaian Jordan has a lovely voice, it is a contemporary R&B sound, and does not remotely resemble the style in which Aretha Franklin sang as a child. Her voice is much smaller than young Aretha’s, and yet audiences respond with rapturous applause as if she just brought the house down. This is distracting, to say the least.

Overall, the acting leaves much to be desired, and is not helped by the lackluster script. Each actor’s delivery feels like they are reciting lines. The pacing as a whole is painfully slow, yet each individual scene feels rushed.

In life, Aretha was surrounded by celebrities from an early age. Her father was a famous minister, and they had countless famous friends. Even from a young age, some of Aretha’s closest friends and neighbors grew up to be stars as well. So, to properly tell Aretha Franklin’s story, you need a glittery cast of A-list talent. NatGeo fell painfully short in this department, as no one is actually a star.

The closest thing to an A-list celebrity is Courtney B. Vance, who has enjoyed an illustrious screen career. But even he is sadly out of his element playing Aretha’s father, the iconic Rev. CL Franklin. His portrayal feels like a caricature, and much of his story arc is straight from the salacious rumor mill.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, NatGeo’s worst error was the miscasting of British musical theater actress Cynthia Erivo as Aretha Franklin.

Perhaps most obviously, Erivo simply does not possess the physicality to play Aretha at any stage of her life. Her stature is far too small, and her costars tower over her in most scenes. Aretha had unique presence both onstage and off. She was a commanding figure — a force — and yet she had the most graceful way of moving. Her gestures were understated and subtle. Erivo’s movements are hurried and harsh, and her physical presence lacks the authority of Aretha.

One of the most distracting elements is Erivo’s speaking voice. Aretha had a high, breathy, flirtatious voice, with a specific lilt in her cadence. For reasons unknown, Erivo speaks in a low, emotionless monotone, which is reminiscent of her previous characters, Celie (“The Color Purple”) and Harriet Tubman (“Harriet”). It would seem that Erivo has one American accent in her arsenal and uses it with each American role she takes on. Perhaps the most difficult moments to watch are when she accidently slips back into her British accent, taking the audience fully out of the scene. Why no one on set caught these major gaffes is beyond comprehension.

Erivo’s character development completely misses the mark. Aretha had a strong personality, but was also shy, coy, demure, feminine, and cool at the same time. Erivo’s portrayal is surprisingly one-dimensional. It would seem that her only view of Miss Franklin was “angry diva.” But Aretha was far more than a diva, and when her “diva” came out, it was often coupled with a wink and a nod. Aretha loved to laugh and had a wonderful sense of humor. Erivo’s Aretha is painfully void of comic relief, completely ignoring Franklin’s playful and acerbic wit. The one instance she attempts to show this side (telling her band a joke about a chicken), it falls completely flat.

While Erivo’s singing is strong throughout, it never reaches that spine-tingling level of Aretha’s unbridled delivery. Instead, it feels like a carefully rehearsed karaoke imitation. Unlike Andra Day’s recent tour de force performance as Billie Holiday (“The United States Vs. Billie Holiday), Erivo never manages to get lost in the character, even during her best musical moments.

In addition, many of the musical moments would appear to be added after the fact, just to remind the audience that this is still Aretha Franklin’s story we are watching.

Arguably the biggest letdown of this entire endeavor is the song selection. NatGeo did not secure the rights to Franklin’s most beloved songs in her catalogue. So what we get here is a string of lesser known songs from Aretha’s repertoire — and often, songs more closely associated with other acts (Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come,” Otis Redding’s “Satisfaction,” Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man” and Diana Ross’s “Reach Out and Touch”).

Before Miss Franklin died, it’s been said that she specifically requested not to have her story told on television. (Instead, she famously asked Jennifer Hudson to bring her story to life on the big screen in MGM’s “Respect,” due in theaters this August.) Aretha knew what National Geographic and its showrunners did not — her story is larger than life and should be treated as such.

[ladystiltskin67]

Take it Back to the Beginning part 2

“Gabriel?”

“In the flesh.”

Dean tilted his head slightly to analyze what he was seeing. Remembering Jack’s body lay just behind him, he turned quickly to close the trunk only to realize it was empty. As his thoughts were forming he heard a voice he’d never quite get use to.

“Looking for something?” Dean turned back to face the beautiful, yet terrifying, embodiment of Death.

“What’d you do with him Billie?” He’d already gotten the boy killed… It would be hard to explain to Cas that he’d lost the body as well.

The two glared at one another as the sound of footsteps filled the garage.

“Hey, Cas said if you wouldn’t mind to -” Sam froze mid sentence as he took in the scene before him. There’s no way he was seeing what he was seeing. He lumped it up to blood loss. That is, until he heard the other man speak.

“Hey there Sam.” Gabriel made a small flourish with his arms as his face held a small smile. Sam looked to Dean to validate then back to the smaller man in front of him. A quick assessment told Sam that it wouldn’t take more than three strides, but he also noticed they had company so he settled for a small acknowledgement.

“H, Hey Gabriel.” Sam cleared his throat then addressed the other person in the room. “Hi Billie.”

“Sam. Where’s the angel? I have a feeling he’ll want to be here for this.”

“Be here for what?” Dean questioned. When billy didn’t answer Dean rolled his eyes then closed them sending a silent message to the man inside. It wasn’t long before they could hear another set of heavy feet coming their way.

“Dean, are you ok? Something feels off. There’s -” Castiel stood next to the brothers for only a moment before he moved forward to envelop his brother in a hug.

“Brother… I, Where have you been?” Cas smiled into Gabriel’s shoulder before pulling back.

“Well, I had been hanging out in the empty, but this beautiful creature sprung me.” Gabriel hitched a thumb at Billie. “Anywho, we picked up a little hitchhiker, said he knew you guys.”

It took only seconds as a shimmer in front of them turned first into a silhouette, then a person.

“Jack…”

“Castiel!” The young man moved forward into the angels arms.

“Jack, I’m, I- I’m so glad you’re home.” Castiel held tight as he could without hurting his son and they separated only long enough for Sam to have his turn. Thankfully Billie spoke just in time to keep Jack and Dean from facing one another.

“If we’re doing getting re-introduced here, I have a few things I need to take care of. Rest as much as you can now, because starting tomorrow, the five of you get to help me put the world back together.” She looked at Dean expecting a fight and got a simple nod instead.

“Well, lets get cleaned up and filled up. I ain’t saving the world on an empty stomach.” Dean new he probably couldn’t eat even if he did want to, but cooking would be a welcome distraction. The group murmured their agreements and headed toward the kitchen.  He watched again as what was left of his family walked back into the bunker without him.

“A little sad isn’t it?” Death folded her arms leaning back against a car.

“What, the end of the world?”

“No, just how they’re together in there. The archangel with your brother, the nephilim with your… friend, and you out here. Alone.”

“Aww now Billie don’t be silly. I’m not alone, I’m out here with you.” Dean smiled sweetly at her.

“Hmmm not for long. Get some rest Dean. You need it.”

The battle worn hunter wandered through the halls reaching his bedroom. Billie was right. He was alone. His family sat in the war room trading stories and reconnecting while he hid himself away. It’s because your a coward

“Stop it.” He felt defeated. His body was sore, his ego demolished, and to top it off he was covered in zombie guts. Gathering what little bit of strength he had left Dean trudged to the bathroom to shower. He wanted to take his time and let the heat of the water loosen his strained muscles, but that would require standing longer than he had the patients for tonight. Scrubbing quickly he realized he’d need a second go. This time he used some of Sam’s fancy soap. It smelled better than his plain bar of irish spring, and it made his skin soft.

Back in his room Dean toweled off opting for sweats and a t-shirt over the one pair of actual pajamas he had. Once dressed he fell face first onto the bed and fast asleep.

***

“Dean. Dean honey, wake up.”

“Ugh...mm.”

“Dean? Come on, get up.”

“Just a few more minutes Mom.” Can’t a man get some sleep… my own mother- Wait.

“Mom?!” Dean shot up in bed noticing the blonde woman at his feet.

“Hi sweetheart.” Mary smiled softly at her son.

“Mom is that really you?”

“It’s me. Now, don’t get too excited. I’m just here for a visit, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have to go back?” Tears began to cloud his vision.

“Yes.”

“What’d you wanna say?”

“I know you’re holding on. I know you’re still angry at him, but Dean-”

“Of course I’m angry at him... He-” Her oldest son gestured to her in an attempt to convey the feeling building in his chest.

“I know what he did Dean, but It was an accident. I knew better and I pushed him too far.”

“You think that this is your fault?” Mary scooted closer to her eldest son.

“I’m not here to lay blame to anyone. He and I both overreacted and-” Dean cut her off in a surge of anger.

“Overreacted? Yelling at you would have been an over reaction! Pushing you down would have been an overreaction. He didn’t overreact mom, he blew you up! He more than blew you up, he, he, disintegrated you. We couldn’t even… There was nothing left.”  Mary took his hands in hers to try and calm him.

“I know. And I am sorry.” Mary paused waiting for her son to look at her. “Dean, you and I both know that I didn’t belong here. When I came back I was out of place. I wasn’t the mother you were expecting, the one you deservd.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserved…. That.”

“I know it seemed horrific to you, but I was ok. I was arguing with Jack and then in the same second I was home. Next thing I know your father came bounding through the door. It’s been peaceful.”

“Mom…”

“I know it’s hard. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. Dean I am so sorry that you had to live the life you did. You and Sam both. But do you have any idea how proud I am to go down as the woman who mothered the two most incredible men in the universe?” Dean smiled slightly at the compliment. “You’re about to face the biggest fight of your life. I need you to let the anger go. I’m at peace where I am, and I am content to waste my days with your father until you and Sam can join us.”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can do any of this.” He let the tears fall as his mother reached out to hold him. Dean held tight knowing it was the last hug he’d get for a while. He relaxed as a lullaby from the past soothed his tired soul in his mother’s soft voice.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain….Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah…. Hey Jude….”

***

@crack--attack @slytherinlifeislove  @nerd-litteraire @rocksaltandhoney @destieldrabblesdaily  @67btardisstreet @supernaturalrandomfandom @ideducedestiel @aru022 @bubblesoapgirl @agentzreads @casdean-jenmish @thatsnotwhoifuckingam @sleephawhoneedsit @hellodean-sam @spnandmarvelobsessed @iwritefanficnot-tragedies @cuddlesforcockles @a-mountain-ash @narraukoiel  @sillyyjackie @ain-t-bovvered @soloarcana @idabbleincrazy @blazeeblake @pepevons @adoptdontshoppets @larrem88 @thewolfatmydoor @maddiefangirl4 @moderatelypanickedbisexual @collectorofsecretsandsouls @dragontamerm @charmedbycastiel  @hellspawndemon @hopelessly-written @trashblackrainbow

[taikoturtle]

Ch. 3 - Trimberly fic, “Been There, Done that”

Read it on Ao3

Read Ch. 1

Read Ch. 2

Springing up out of her covers, Kimberly rolls over to Trini and starts gently shaking her shoulders.

“Trini, Trini wake up!”

“Mmnnggnhnng.”

“Trini, I swear if you don’t wake up this instant I’m going to slap you.”

Trini grumbles and pokes her head out sluggishly. “Kim, I love you and everything, but please leave me alone.”

“No, Trini get up. This is important.”

“So is sleep.”

“Trini, if you don’t wake up, someone’s going to die.”

Now that catches her attention.

“What’s wrong? Are we under attack?” Trini leans up from her sleeping bag with added urgency, halfway prepared to leap into a battle ready stance.

“No, nothing like that.” Kimberly shakes her head before scooting closer, dropping her voice into a low, serious tone. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve gone through this day twice before and I can prove it to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look,” Kimberly points at the entrance to their tent. “Any second now, Zack is going to come wake us up and shortly after that, Jason burns the potatoes he’s trying to cook.”

Trini snorts with disbelief. “How do you burn potatoes?”

Her question goes unanswered as the distinct sound of crunching leaves and twigs snapping underfoot gets louder and louder until Zack’s head pokes through the tent’s flap.

“Rise and shine everyone; rise and shine!”

They stare at him blankly before he realizes that they’re not actually asleep.

“Oh, you’re already up.” He smiles broadly. “Makes my job easier. C’mon, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Wait, Zack!” Kimberly calls out. “Don’t you uh, want to know what we did last night?”

She has to stall long enough for Jason to burn the potatoes to prove her point to Trini. If they go outside too early, they may interrupt him and she’ll never believe her.

Zack claps his hands excitedly and eyes them both. “Oh ho, what’s this? You girls did stuff last night? Did you do stuff… together? Because then Jason owes me-”

“No, Zack,” Trini growls dangerously, “We did not do anything like that. We just went stargazing and saw a shooting star, nothing more.”

“Oh. My bad.”

His reply is oddly muted and Kimberly doesn’t know why Trini seemed slightly offended by the implication that they did stuff last night, nor does she know why the sharp pang in her heart stings as much as it does.

“Jason, I think the potatoes are burning.”

Right on time.

Zack motions to the campfire and grins. “Looks like that’s my cue. Captain Hopeless needs me.”

He disappears back to join the boys and Trini gawks at Kimberly. “You were right. He burned the potatoes.”

“What’d I tell ya?”

They get dressed in a hurry as Kimberly explains the situation to Trini. She recounts the first day and how everything went wrong, starting with Zack slashing his leg from falling off that tree to the attack and to his… death. Then on to the next day where she saves Zack but at the cost of Billy’s life.

“No matter what I did, someone still died at the lake,” Kimberly groans in frustration.

“So you think the day is repeating itself until you get it right and nobody dies?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, what other reason could it be?”

“Okay, fair enough. Why are you telling me this now?” Trini asks as they exit the tent.

“I need your help keeping everyone safe,” Kimberly admits with anguish underlying her words like a tethered ghost. “…I can’t do it alone.”

The pair walk in silence up to the campfire and watch as Zack and Jason squabble over the potatoes while Billy carefully scrapes off the extra burnt parts, blissfully unaware of the fates that befell them in another time.

“I’m sorry,” Trini whispers quietly while observing the boys, “that you had to go through that.”

Shaking her head, Kimberly shrugs it off. “It’s fine.”

“Is it really?”

Zack’s body flashes in her mind.

Billy’s body flashes in her mind.

Blood running everywhere like a free flowing stream, how unnaturally pale they looked and how eerily still death really is. Each experience like a vivid nightmare and likely something Kimberly will never forget.

Trini’s always more attentive than she lets on though. Some find her enigmatic disposition intimidating, but Kimberly knows it’s her way of slipping into the background to silently observe. Despite only having been clued in on the past events just now, she notices the cumulative toll it’s taken on Kimberly and she sees the lasting emotional scars that the pain leaves behind.

She recognizes it’s a pain that none of them will truly understand.

“…One day it will be,” Kimberly responds shakily after nearly being consumed by her own treacherous thoughts. “As long as we get it right this time.”

Trini gazes up at her, unwavering. “I’m with you.”

The sincerity of her words hits Kimberly like a tidal wave, washing over every fibre of her being and filling her with a comforting, uplifting warmth. Her support has been what’s missing in all the past repeats, and it’s exactly what she needs because as much as she prides herself on being a strong individual, carrying such an arduous burden is no easy task. With Trini at her side, the day seems far less daunting and maybe - just maybe - this time, Kimberly can get it right.

Zack hands out the tin trays with the cooked sausages and charred potatoes to each of the squad members and they proceed to chow down hungrily. Kimberly pushes the uneaten food around on her plate absentmindedly, her eyes instead flickering from one person to the next. She wonders what’s going on in their mind and whether those thoughts change with each repeat. Probably not, judging by how Jason always burns the potatoes and Billy’s dialogue remains the same, but those small trivial musings help deflect against the relentless visions of their gruesome deaths.

After they finish up their meal and tidy up the campsite, they load up their bags in preparation for the nature walk and Kimberly can’t help but groan loudly because god, how many more times is she going to have to walk this beaten path? Kimberly isn’t exactly keen on exercise, and while a mile is no big deal, several miles repeated back to back to back is enough to drive her a little insane.

The boys are a little farther up ahead, chatting indistinctly about the latest videogames and strategies leaving Kimberly to safely discuss her plan of attack with Trini.

“They have razor sharp talons and are larger than Zack, but are pretty quick despite their size. There’s feathers all over their body and I’m pretty sure they had some kind of hardened chest plate, like armor or something.” Kimberly describes them as best she can from memory, but judging by the incredulous look Trini’s throwing her way, her efforts are weak at best.

“So these massive, super fast, Bird baddies came–”

“Can you not call them ‘bird baddies’?” Kimberly protests lightheartedly. “That sounds so lame.”

“Well we’ve got to call them something, and I like the alliteration of bird baddies over bird enemies, which, by the way, sounds ten times lamer.”

Kimberly takes a sip of her water and shrugs. “I didn’t exactly have time to come up with a cool name for them, okay? I was kind of preoccupied fighting for my life.”

“Fine, I guess you’re off the hook,” Trini jokes as she hops over a mossy tree trunk. “Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a certain someone, the bird baddies just came out of nowhere?”

Kimberly stows her water bottle away and nods affirmatively. “Each time I was attacked on land first, so I’m guessing they must have circled from the surrounding forest. This time though, I was thinking I should search the perimeter first and have you keep an eye on Billy, that way the bird baddies won’t get the drop on us.”

Trini’s mouth tugs up into a smirk.

Kimberly purses her lips. “What’s so funny?”

“You called them bird baddies.”

Rolling her eyes, Kimberly stifles a grin of her own and gently shoves Trini’s shoulder. “Whatever. Just follow my plan and we’ll be golden.”

Trini salutes dramatically with a sparkle in her eyes. “Aye aye, captain.”

No matter what timeline Kimberly’s in or how many days she’s repeated, or who knows what’s up or down at this point, it’s an indisputable fact that Trini will always be charming and infinitely endearing. It’s like a constant law of the universe, with every successive scenario merely serving to reinforce said law, and without fail, Kimberly’s heart melts just a little bit more.

“Hey Jason, how far away is it?”

Billy’s question triggers Kimberly into action and she’s forced to shove her feelings to the wayside once more to address the situation at hand.

Between the combined efforts of her and Trini, they’re able to successfully talk Zack down from leaping up onto the precarious tree branch by instead daring him to give Trini a piggyback ride, effectively challenging his strength and endurance. It’s a deceptively simple tactic that works perfectly because Zack never turns down a challenge.

Kimberly watches fondly as he weaves and zig zags around the forest with Trini on his back and for a brief moment, she worries that maybe this could result in another moment of injury for either one of them, but as the forest thins out and the lake comes into view, those silly fears dissipate.

“Wow,” Billy exhales as he shields his eyes against the bright reflections to take in the entire scene.

“Wow is right.” Trini echoes his sentiments as she hops off of Zack’s back to drop her bag onto the ground.

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Zack wastes no time in swiftly stripping his shirt off before chucking it to their pile of belongings and dashes towards the water at full speed with Jason trailing shortly behind him. Billy carefully unties his shoes and folds his clothes up into a tidy pile before venturing out towards the shallows.

Kimberly pulls her top up to reveal her own fuschia bikini top and for a second it gets caught on her hair; of course, leave it to her short hair to still somehow get tangled in fabric. It’s a wonder how her haircut continues to cause problems despite it being more easily manageable, yet here she is caught in her own damn shirt like a buffoon. The air is crisp and cool against her exposed skin and goosebumps riddle her arms, but after a few more seconds of struggling, she manages to shimmy it up and over.

Tossing her top aside, Kimberly starts, “Hey Trini, I think–”

She stops mid-sentence.

Trini’s eyes are wider than usual, her lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling at a shallow, rapid pace. She looks like she’s seen a ghost except her skin isn’t pale - in fact, it’s quite the opposite. There’s a deep rosy tint overtaking her cheeks and her gaze seems hyperfocused on Kimberly, but not Kimberly’s words.

She’s gawking.

Maybe it’s from the extra workouts at the gym that Kimberly forces upon herself outside of the demanding Power Ranger training sessions, but she knows her body is toned and relatively fit. The power coins already granted them heightened strength, but she figures it can’t hurt to at least try and maintain it through natural means. It’s just… with Trini staring so intently, Kimberly can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

“T-Trini, hey uh. Earth to Trini.” Kimberly’s heart is racing and she wonders if Trini feels it too. “You there?”

Trini blinks a couple more times, as if still mesmerized, spellbound by powerful, invisible forces beyond her control, but then she suddenly shakes her head and her focus snaps back to Kimberly’s anxious face. “Yeah, no I’m fine. What?”

“The plan, Trini.”

“What plan?”

“Go keep an eye on Billy while I search around,” Kimberly slowly reminds her as she gestures towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Trini mumbles her words hastily before undressing to reveal her swimsuit as well. “I’ll just be uh, going now.”

She scampers off like a frightened rabbit and makes a beeline to join Billy who’s already standing peacefully at the water’s edge. Kimberly suppresses a laugh because in their entire time together, that has to have been the first time she’s ever caught Trini just… staring like that. She looked so flustered - so absolutely bewildered - that in a way, Kimberly can’t help it when her confidence swells. Though she tries her best to hide it, keep it low key, Trini is positively stunning, so eliciting such a visceral reaction from her feels like an impressive god-like feat.

Retreating back to the trees, Kimberly skirts around the border where the clearing meets the forest. Every crunching twig and rustling bush grabs her attention. Her pulse spikes and her breathing draws quicker and quicker. She doesn’t even know which direction the birds might come from.

Hell, for all she knows, they swooped down from the sky.

“No,” she mutters to herself as she presses on past a few scraggly trees, “if they came from the sky then we would’ve spotted them.”

Kimberly leans against a tree and watches Trini chat with Billy in the shallow water. Their backs are to her, but judging by their posture Trini has probably figured out why Billy doesn’t go deeper into the lake. Jason and Zack are farther out in the distance floating on their backs, bobbing up and down in the water like buoys, relaxing without a care in the world.

And then it hits her. Literally.

Anyone in the water would be too preoccupied to notice, and every time Billy’s back was to the trees so of course he only had his peripherals to rely on. That being said, they couldn’t have come from the left or right; they came from directly behind where they dropped all of their belongings in a pile.

Kind of exactly where Kimberly’s standing now.

She hears the branches snap as she’s turning around. The moment she pulls a fast 180, the first bird is already tackling her to the ground, screeching bloody murder into her ears like a deafening siren.

“Kim!”

She hears Trini shout her name, but panic floods Kimberly’s body and she immediately roars back, “Stay with Billy!”

The bird has her pinned to the ground as it swipes at her face, thick black feathers engulfing her vision with obsidian chaos. Kimberly throws her arms up just in time to block the first flurry of slashes, but she’s punished with deep gashes ripping open along the length of her forearms. Pain explodes all over her body like a wildfire, searing her skin and eating her alive. She screams out in agony as blood gushes from the wounds, but adrenaline surges in her system and she manages to buck the bird off in a sudden jerking motion.

Turning the tides in an instant, Kimberly gets the upper hand by twisting around and swinging a solid punch directly at the enemy’s armorless, exposed throat. Airy, hoarse noises croak from the bird’s crushed windpipe like a broken instrument and Kimberly knows its days are numbered.

One down.

Warm liquid streams down her arms but she refuses to look at it because the moment she acknowledges just how bad it really is, there won’t be enough adrenaline in the world that can mask the true, uninhibited pain.

Jason and Zack are just barely out of the water and run headlong to face off against two more birds. Her eyes flick to the side and she spots Billy and Trini tag teaming a single bird. Billy isn’t the strongest at hand-to-hand combat, but Trini is, so they balance each other out perfectly. The bird is agile with lightning-quick reflexes but two against one is still better odds. Kimberly nearly heads towards Jason and Zack to help them out, but movement catches in the corner of her eye and her heart sinks.

Another bird emerges from the woods, headed straight for Trini.

“No…!”

Her feet dig deep as she kicks off the ground, dashing at full speed, frantic and fearful.

She has to make it. Not making it is simply not an option. Billy’s eyes widen as the second bird rears into view just beyond his field of vision, but he’s ducking and dodging the immediate threat right in front of him. Trini must’ve noticed the subtle shift in his expression–she pivots in place and prepares to brace herself for a sudden onslaught.

But the onslaught never comes.

Kimberly barrels in at full speed and hurls herself forward to intercept the charging bird. She manages to get a grip on one of its winged arms as she tackles it down and attempts to pull it to the ground with her, but the bird’s other free arm wildly swings down in an arcing motion. A sharp, stinging sensation shoots through her hand as the two hit the floor in a scrawling heap. Kimberly raises her arm, winding up for a devastating punch, but when she tries to clench her hand into a fist, she’s paralyzed with crippling pain. Hazarding a glance, she quickly sees why.

Oh.

Instead of a fist prepared to strike, she sees a hand.

A debilitated, injured hand covered in glistening crimson blood that’s missing its pinky and ring finger along with half of the middle finger.

No, there’s no way that’s her hand.

Except she wiggles her fingers, well, tries to wiggle her fingers, and sure enough the hand attempts to respond, but there’s just nothing to wiggle. Sheer horror floods throughout her body as it dawns on her that they were slashed clean off - that she’s fucking missing fingers now - and how she has this luckless bird to thank.

With all her might, she clenches her other hand and slams it into the enemy’s face. A sickening crunch crackles through the air as her fist fractures the bird’s beak on impact, its face smashing inward and compressing into a flattened, fleshy mess. Tiny tremors wrack its feathered body, twitching and spasming away the last signs of life, and with two enemies now dead, the others release an ear-piercing screech before taking to the sky.

Kimberly holds her hands out, palms facing up at her, and she stares unblinking and shocked at how they look distinctly different.

I don’t have a pinky anymore, she thinks, or a ring finger.

The adrenaline starts to fade, replaced with white hot pain rapidly blossoming all over her body and she remembers that oh yeah, I’m probably bleeding out too, judging from the long jagged gashes spanning the length of her forearms. The mounting pain becomes exponentially unbearable and the last thing Kimberly remembers is seeing Trini’s face before fading to black.

She wonders if this is what death is like.

Cold, dark, lonely, isolated.

She hates it, she despises the feeling, but she’s already resigned to the fact that there’s nothing left for her, that life is done and over. In the end, she fulfilled her ranger duty and kept everyone safe and that’s all that really matters.

Except death never takes her.

Kimberly’s eyelids are heavy and clumsy as she slowly blinks awake. The blankets are thick and weighty against her chest. There’s tubes and monitors and the faint beeping of her heart and everything’s twenty times louder than it should be thanks to the massive headache throbbing against her temples, but hey, she’s not dead so that’s definitely something.

Her eyes scan the room and she realizes she’s in the infirmary at the Command Center. Thankfully none of the other beds are occupied, so either nobody was hurt, or someone was hurt so bad that no amount of medicine could save them. She sincerely hopes it’s the case of the former, but she can’t know for sure.

The last thing she remembers is seeing Trini’s distressed face before everything went dark. She thought it would be the last thing she’d ever see, which honestly wouldn’t have been such a bad thing at all, but in the quiet, dimly-lit room Kimberly finally notices the tiny figure slumped over on the side of her bed near her waist.

“Trini?” Kimberly croaks out, her voice raspy and guttural. She tries to reach out, but agony shoots through her body like lightning and she hisses in pain.

It’s enough though. Her gasp rouses Trini from her slumped position and recognition lights up her face like christmas and she chokes out in happiness. Lurching forward, Trini throws her arms around Kimberly and hugs her tight.

Kimberly’s body ignites like needles jabbing in all directions, but Trini is hugging her and that’s more than enough reason to help her endure the pain.

“What happened?”

Trini doesn’t move at first, still hugging her tighter than she’s ever hugged her before. Her limbs are shaking and her breathing comes in erratic tiny sniffles. “I th-thought I was going to lose you.”

“Is everyone okay?” Kimberly asks. She has to know that her efforts were worth it.

“Yeah,” Trini replies as she pulls back to breathe. “Nobody died.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Just a couple hours,” Trini says. “We brought you to the Command Center as soon as we could.”

Kimberly’s eyes follow down the length of her arms, passing over the thick sterile dressings until they rest at her heavily bandaged hand. It’s her dominant hand unfortunately, so she’ll have some new things to get used to, but it was worth it. It was a fair trade in her book.

The mattress dips down, pulling her away from her thoughts and Trini maneuvers her way under the blankets to join Kimberly in her bed. It’s a tight, snug fit for the two of them, but they make it work. Trini wraps her arm loosely around Kimberly’s stomach, making sure to not place too much weight on her arms and after the other girl doesn’t complain or protest the movement, she relaxes into her side, her head resting gently on Kimberly’s shoulder.

“You did it,” Trini whispers. “You saved everyone.”

Kimberly hums in agreement. It was sloppy that’s for sure, but Trini’s right–she did save everyone. It came at a cost, but it was a price she’d gladly pay a thousand times over. No more deaths, no more stress, no more what ifs. She finally achieved what she set out to do.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Kimberly says appreciatively. “Really, thank you.”

Trini shifts in place and turns just enough to face Kimberly. Her eyes are red and puffy and shimmering like a glistening lake, but they’re deep and intricately profound, hiding layers of pent up emotions and unspoken sentiments. But right now there’s a storm raging within her eyes as she studies Kimberly up close, words dancing at the tip of her tongue.

“I… Kimberly… I uh…” Trini’s biting her lip, as if she has more to say. A part of Kimberly feels like she knows what comes next, anticipating the following admission, or even an action that she thinks she’s finally ready for, but Trini’s brow upturns anxiously and fear surfaces to the forefront. “Jason said we’ll go back to camp tomorrow morning after you’re rested.”

The words spill out of Trini’s mouth and before Kimberly can even react, Trini swiftly breaks eye contact and instead nestles into her side. Kimberly can’t tell if it’s disappointment or fatigue, or some stupid mixture in between, but her body grows heavy and consciousness becomes a chore so she stops fighting the inevitable.

“Goodnight Trini.”

//

It was a great night.

It was a fantastic night.

Exhaustion makes sleep seem ten times better. When Kimberly wakes, she feels amazingly well-rested.

In fact, maybe a little… too well-rested.

No.

No.

No.

She’s in a pink tent. She’s in her sleeping bag. She clenches her hands and they feel perfectly fine. She hears the twigs snapping underfoot and she wants nothing more than to scream at the top of her lungs because what the fuck.

“Rise and shine everyone; rise and shine!”

[surveystodestressme]

85.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 22

2001. Can you believe that we have only gotten through two fifths of this survey so far? i believe it 2002. What is your opinion of Dave Coulier? i have no idea who that is 2003. If you were to a write a Choose Your Own Adventure book, what would it be about? horror 2004. What was your best find from a flea market, garage sale, ebay or thrift store? huh? 2005. What do you not have enough money for right now? a new car

2006. Do you believe that Teras for Fears were right when they said, “Everybody wants to rule the world?” eh 2007. What is the design on your beach towel? i don’t have a beach towel 2008. What stirs something deep and animalistic inside you? mean fucking people 2009. Have you ever cross dressed (even as a joke)? no 2010. Do you own anything with a rainbow on it? yes lol my boyfriends mom buys pj pants for everyone on christmas and this year she got me rainbow pants with minions on them....... i’ve NEVER even seen despicable me 2011. What would be the worst object for a child to take on a long car ride with you? a loud handheld game 2012. What’s the Best Beatles song in your opinion? help 2013. Why do you suppose that diary sites are more popular with females than males? idk 2014. What do these color combinations remind you of: orange and pink: ice cream pink and green: fruit green and gold: nature purple and gold: idk gold and red: royalty red and white: america blue and grey: the beach 2015. What is one selfish thing you tend to do? let people buy me stuff 2016. When do you think technology will catch up with the Jetson’s? idk 2017. What made you laugh today? my lab partners 2018. Do you ever stick your entries in any of the diary circles? no. 2019. Can you freestyle rap? i could try but it wouldn’t be that good 2020. Are you: stylish? somewhat shiek? huh? smart? i think so 2021. Do you find you self only buying brand name products? i do not care about name brands 2022. Would you ever want to buy an article of clothing or an accessory because you saw a celebrity wear it? i don’t pay attention to celebrities enough 2023. What song do you feel the sexiest dancing to? buttons by pussycat dolls 2024. Who do you know who looks silly when they dance? my dad 2025. Sweaty sex or clean sex? a lil bit of both honestly 2026. Which is more important to you: being kind or being right? i mean both honestly. 2027. Can you do any special dances like swing, tap, or ballroom? i used to do tap 2028. Are you scared of monsters? nada 2029. Who would you like to remind people of? idc 2030. Do you walk to school or do you bring your lunch? neither???? 2031. Rate your skills from one to ten (10 = you are the best at it): socializing: 5 making friends: 5 working with computers: 5 arts: 7 crafts: 7 dancing: 2 skating: 6 talking other people into things: 8 writing: 9 living life to the fullest each day: 5 cooking: 3 gardening: 2 cleaning up after yourself: 9 playing poker: 1 surviving in the woods: 3 managing your time: 8 attracting the opposite sex (or same sex if you prefer)? 4 2032. Have you ever been to an indian reservation? nope 2033. What is going to happen tomorrow that you can celebrate, even if it’s a little thing? idk 2034. Do you save things for special occasions or is everyday a special occasion? i save things. 2035. What is one thing you are terrible at: saving money 2036. What’s your favorite: rap song: love the way you lie country song: we danced industrial song: idk. cover song: cant help falling in love with you punk song: idk odd song: cotton eye joe 2037. What do you get your teacher or your boss for the holidays? not a thing lol 2038. Do you like to read books by Virgina Wolfe? never read any. 2039. What is your favorite tv show from when you were a kid? spongebob 2040. What is now proved was once only imagined. - William Blake. What do you imagine? the future. 2041. What has been passed down through at least two generations to you? nothing 2042. Do we live in a particularly bad age for romance? i don’t think so 2043. Have you ever cheated on someone? nope Do you believe that once someone is a cheater they can never be trusted? yes 2044. Have you ever gone: christmas caroling? nope pumpkin picking? yeah on a hay wagon ride? yes on a romantic valentine’s day date? yeah to a new year’s eve party? a couple times to a memorial day parade? yeah to the Macy’s thanksgiving day parade? maybe in the past to search for gold coins on st patrick’s day? no. 2045. Have you ever done any modeling? nope 2046. Would you consider yourself to be psychologically damaged? not that i can think of 2047. How aware are you of the reasons behind your actions and words? very aware 2048. What is the sickest you ever drank or drugged yourself? i haven’t had any really bad experiences tbh. it’s always a shitty time when i’ve thrown up from alcohol but i’ve never blacked out. 2049. Would you prefer it if clothing was optional? no lol. 2050. What is one interesting fact about you: i collect shot glasses 2051. Are more people depressed because they are alone, or are more people alone because they are depressed? they’re more depressed bc they’re alone probably but there are way more complicated reasons as to why people are depressed 2052. Have you ever gotten a mug, t-shirt, key chain, etc. that was personalized with your picture? no lol 2053. What was the last thing that you experienced for the first time? i don’t know 2054. If you were going to die tomorrow and you were leaving a postcard for someone to read after you were gone what would it say? i dunno. 2055. If you were about to be executed what would your last request be? tell my family that i love them 2056. What kinds of people do you find intimidating? too many people lol 2057. How much conviction do you have in your feelings and beliefs? quite a bit. 2058. In your house where is the: crazy glue? in the junk drawer flashlight? above the snack cabinet 2059. Out of everyone you know who has the most personality? there’s plenty of people lol 2060. If you could go back in time to experience a musical movement or era, which one would you choose to live through? none 2061. Do you suffocate people with your love? sometimes 2062. Do you feel your life is charmed? no. 2063. What character do you identify the most with from Winnie the Pooh? piglet 2064. When do you do your best thinking? in the shower or on the toilet 2065. What motivates you? food 2066. Look back at all the people you’ve dated. Has there been a pattern? not that i can think of 2067. Things change but what will always remain the same for you? i don’t know 2068. Is divorce something you would ever consider or do you feel that marriage is permanantly binding? i would preferably not get divorced. 2069. What’s the strangest movie you ever saw? the abc’s of death 2070. If you could go into virtual reality and set up your life there to be perfect and it would seem real but not be real would you trade your life now for the virtual life? it’d be cool but no 2071. Does it seem like life is more difficult for you than for anyone else? nope 2072. What are you grateful for? everything i have. 2073. What was a choice that you didn’t want to make but you had to? idk. 2074. Have you ever had dental surgery? no. 2075. At what point exactly are you grown up? when you  have bills and you feel like you’re drowning 2076. If there was a weight loss procedure that would destroy your ability to taste food so you wouldn’t be tempted by junk food, would you have it done? absolutely not 2077. What is one thing that happened that you never expected? finding someone i love who actually loves me back 2078. If you called one of your friends and they said “It’s nothing personal but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” would you take it personally? nah, i’ve had moments like that too so i can understand 2079. What is your favorite girl’s name? i don’t really have one 2080. Do you ever feel guilty for being more fortunate than others? not really. 2081. If you had to wear a shirt with one word on it for a year, what word would you choose? kok 2082. What is evian spelled backwards? naive 2083. You drop 10 pounds of feathers and a ten pound bowling ball off the top of the same building. Which will hit the ground first? they both weigh the same, sooo both 2084. Even though you may never get what you want, are you happy because you’re trying? yes 2085. If you started a petition what would it be about? idk. 2086. When was the last time you asked someone to do something and they said no? everytime i ask jack to do something he says no but does it anyways 2087. Do bad things happen to you on friday the 13th? not that i know of. 2088. What’s your favorite: Madonna song? - John Lennon song? - Michael Jackson song? billy jean Doors song? - Rolling Stones song? - David Bowie song?- Elvis song? cant help falling in love with you 2089. If you had started a relationship with someone and they said that it would be best if no one knew about it just to see how it goes, would you be offended? it depends ig but id feel like they just wanted to hide me 2090. Do you know any self defense? not really How about CPR? i know the concept of it but ive never really practiced or anything 2091. If you had to look into a mirror and see your naked soul stripped of all delusions and pretenses (Never ending Story style)could you handle it? maybe 2092. Are you a genius? no. 2093. How did you find out that Santa Clause wasn’t real? i got a letter from ‘him’ and the handwriting was the same as my dads 2094. Which is your favorite tarot card? i dont do that shit 2095. Does the internet separate people or connect them? both. 2096. Have you ever written a letter to a soldier? my brother and my sister and some of my friends when they were all in the military 2097. Does pain and fear make you feel alive? to a a certain degree 2098. Are you: good looking? yeah thin? no. happy? yes successful? not yet confident? for the most part 2099. Are you decisive or wishy washy? in between. 2100. Do you feel pop stars should be morally responsible to set a good example for their fans? it’s nice but they shouldn’t be obliged to.

[crayonurchin]

Today, I finally told my parents about my alcohol phobia and just how serious it is

Things get a bit dark and sentimental below the cut

truthfully, i’m scared of alcohol because I associate it with mental illness and death. ever since I was 15, that’s all it’s caused around me.

the first major party I went to had ambulances called because people almost died from how much they drank.

I started realising some of my friends would get shitfaced every weekend to cope with the stress of school, but that would make their grades slip so they’d just drink more.

My close family, especially my mum, all have booze as a major part of their life. Parties all get shitfaced, celebrations of any kind get shitfaced, weekends get shitfaced, and problems. Any stress, results in alcohol.

I’ve just avoided it and pretended one day I’ll be fine and comfy. But it’s gotten worse over the years.

Now I can’t even be around drinkers, when people get drunk in films or shows, I panic, I can’t cook with wine because wine does it extra bad for me, I can’t drink out wine glasses without feeling anxious.

And this last 365 days has just been the worst.

Brexit happen. Trump happened. More and more terrorism. My friends mum attempted suicide. Rusty died. Aiden killed himself. My housemate TRIED to kill herself.

All of these things got met with alcohol, except Aiden. All I know is that my friend would drink to quell is depression when it got bad. And now he’s dead. Hung with his own belt.

My phobia has reached a new high. No, ANY alcohol consumption translates to THIS PERSON IS SUICIDAL. I know that’s not true, and that makes it worse. A single glass of wine and dinner is not a symptom of suicide, but my head makes it FEEL that way.

So I try to stay really happy, help people out as much as I can, do my best in uni and work and all opportunities I get, so people don’t feel stressed and they don’t have to drink.

So when they still do, I don’t know what to do.

Last night, my mum drank a lot. More than normal. I don’t want to list it, but she got drunk. She’s not an absive person in any way, shape or form, it’s just how she deals with stress. I don’t know why, but I was extra bad last night and I couldn’t deal with it.

today, I saw my best friend. We went cycling, i made us lunch, watched Mob Psycho, all the while i felt something bad in me rising and rising.

She left, and i just... burst into tears. Mum saw and dragged me into the kitchen to talk about what was wrong with my dad.

And I just exploded. Everything from the last 5 years came out of me, all my thoughts and feelings and fears and personal issues and the fact that my close friend killed himself. It all just... burst out.

We just spoke for an hour. They were... so much nicer than I thought they’d be.  A few times before I’ve expressed discomfort about booze but i don’t think they ever took me seriously. But they did this time. They actually took me seriously. That just... doesn’t happen. I’m the goofy one, the silly billy who likes daft things and laughs a lot. I don’t GET taken seriously but I did.

I’m going to get some therapy. To cope with the loss of my friend, and to try and combat my phobia. I don’t WANT to be scared of alcohol any more. I never want to DRINK it, but i don’t want to be unable to be in the same room as it any more. There’s a cabinet in the kitchen where the hard liquor is kept. I want to be able to go near it WITHOUT near throwing up. I don’t want to see the beer cans in my ALMOST LEGALLY ABLE TO DRINK sisters room and think ‘she’s depressed she’s going to die she hates herself’.

this was all a bit... rambly. But I want this to be a start. I’m tired of my phobia controlling so much of my life.

[hermionejean]

Dean Creations Challenge | hermionejean vs sanctifycas 

↳ Prompt: Poltergeist [AO3]

They returned to the bunker the afternoon after Cas had killed Billie.

Dean, Cas, Sam, and Mary had spent the previous night in a small town hotel. They had woken up late, and ate lunch at a local diner they had found. Neither Dean nor Sam had had any decent food in several weeks, and they were incredibly grateful for the heaps of pancakes and sausages and eggs and toast they ordered. After that, they had begun the drive back to the bunker. It had taken several hours, and by the time they arrived, it was almost time for dinner. Dean had volunteered to make it; he was arguably the best cook of the four, and he actually enjoyed cooking quite a bit.

Cas had followed him to the kitchen, and they talked of this and that. Dean wanted to know about everything that had happened over the past six weeks. They had discussed it in the car, Cas and Mary explaining everything they remembered happening after Sam and Dean’s disappearance. They had asked about Sam and Dean’s time in prison, but neither had wanted to talk about it. They ended up discussing other things: past hunts, favorite memories, personal opinions. Mary peppered them with questions about their lives, seemingly determined to learn everything about them now that she had them safe and alive. She asked how they had met Cas (“You stabbed him? In the chest?” “I thought he was trying to kill me!”) and wanted to know about their other friends (“You’ve already met Jody. Claire and Alex live with her.” “Donna’s also a sheriff, she’s really cool.” “Then there’s Garth, and he’s…uh, well…Garth.”). They one topic they did not spend much time on was Sam and Dean’s imprisonment, and Dean wanted to know how Mary had handled it.

“She was really worried. Guilty, too, I think. For walking away. For not being there. We both were.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean said quietly. “It wasn’t either of your faults.”

Cas didn’t respond, so Dean asked another question. “Do you think she’ll stay now?”

“I don’t know.”

—

Dean got his answer during dinner: Mary was staying. “I couldn’t leave again. Not after the last six weeks.” She smiled sadly. Sam Dean, as well as Cas, beamed at her.

Secretly, Dean was ecstatic. He knew Sam was too. They had understood that Mary had needed some space, but that didn’t make her absence any less painful. They didn’t want her to know how much they had been hurt by it though, and so tried to minimize their excitement for her return.

Towards the end of dinner, Sam declared, “We should have a movie night.”

On occasion, Sam and Dean would sit down and watch a movie together, whether it was to celebrate or relax or forget something. Oftentimes, their movie nights would occur when they stayed with Bobby, who would watch the movie with them. Those nights were filled with laughter and junk food and arguments over silly things, and they were some of the best of Dean’s life. He had almost felt like a normal person during them, with a normal family living in a normal home.

After brief deliberation, they decided to watch Poltergeist. Mary had seen it when it first came out, and Sam and Dean enjoyed watching horror movies. They found it fun to critique how movies portray the supernatural (“Oh my god, that’s not what ghosts are like at all.” “Do the writers know anything about demons?”) and laugh at the characters’ idiotic decisions. Cas was not the biggest fan of horror movies, but he thought Sam and Dean’s remarks would be amusing.

The four piled into Sam’s room with popcorn and beer in tow. Sam and Mary sprawled out on Sam’s bed; Dean and Cas pulled chairs over to watch. Both Cas and Mary joined in when Sam and Dean yelled at the characters, and Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun.

Sitting there, watching the people he loved laughing and enjoying themselves, was incredibly precious to Dean. Just twenty-four hours ago, he was convinced that he was going to die, because there was no way in Hell he was letting Billie take Sam. But now? He knew Billie’s death would have consequences, but now he wasn’t worried about them. Now, he wanted to live entirely in the present, committing every single moment of this evening to memory. Now, he was content to be surrounded by the people he loved and the chance for a new tomorrow.

They’d handled difficult situations before. Dean didn’t think this would be any different.

[nailtravels]

Whether you’re a greenhorn or a bonefide festival warrior, every trip is completely different. The subtle waves and troughs within the extended patterns of the festivarian season can be serious and ultimately transformational. When real life rears its ugly head into the glamorous world of camping/music festivals, what’s to be done? When the puddled mannequin of Bacchus falls right off the roof of the van what’s a hobo to do? One can choose to slug down inordinate water jugs of moonshine and cry tears of forlorn anguish into the forest. Take moonlit golf cart rides through distant fields, reminiscing with beloved comrades. Sing at the top of the voice hole with Nikki Tally or chemical bluegrass around the late-night campfire. When you put it all together it’s called Kamp Happiness and this train to glory has arrived at the Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: Hobo Kamp.

Consider yourself very lucky the rest of the Shawsvegas Mafia got called away on business. They play very well with others.

Kamp Happiness Hobo Kamp, Suwannee Spring Reunion 20129: photo by Katie Egger

Everybody just relax. While there are always variations, all festivals share some common characteristics. Fingernails get broken and dirty. Someone finds a tick in their nether regions. The courtesy shuttle gets lost and sling shots are brought in to hang the lights in the canopy. While it doesn’t always rain, there are always puddles. Wet or dry, the music lives here and it’s always up early and ready to shovel lava rocks. Whether it’s Billy Strings or  on the Amphitheater Stage or Special Ed gettin’ washed in the blood around the campfire, Suwannee Spring Reunion has always been and continues to be one of the most special opportunities for families and tribes to get together for distinctly unique brand of camping and music adventure in the woods of Live Oak, Florida.

In every sense, this festival is a family reunion. Extended cousins came from all over the country to join together in compounds of tents and rvs to celebrate their love for each other while getting down to some of the finest home-grown music around. Down from Valdosta comes the crazy uncle with the same name as his dog. The lunatic brother and his wife arrive from Mexico Beach and God knows what kind of extended reprobates would be joining from Jacksonville Beach. But blood is blood and you don’t get to pick your family. Except this time you do and the Kamp Happiness Hobo Kamp Installation continues to grow with new cousins and insane red-headed step-children everyday.

Chemical Bluegrass, Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: photo by Katie Egger

“Quit pullin’ on the jug. I’m going to need you in the field tomorrow.”

The morning golf cart parade has arrived under the clothesline, covered with tour shirts drying in the rain. Welcome to Hobo Kamp where severe fancy glamping has been perfectly balanced with an almost thuggish, liberal sensibility. These are the chosen ones. Living freely in the dirt of the forest, passing time slowly. The meals are cooked in the Dutch oven over the campfire where friends gather to sing or tell lies. The blinking lights, hammocks and pleasure palaces are bookended by inflatable clowns, rivers of shine and groundscored furniture. When it rains, she gets wet. Dirty feet and flapping tapestries are the order of the day. It may seem loose and untethered but there is an distinct, underlying order to the entire operation. Like an anthill. No real rules to be sure.

Where, you may ask, is the Adventure Wagon? Oh weary traveler, she is lost. From Houston to Mountain View, from the Quinault rain forest to Tonkawa Oklahoma, she is gone to her final reward. Left on the side of the road at Paine’s Prairie, with rods blown and smoke billowing. The final death rattle could barely be heard over the Jerry Garcia Band playing “Let it rock.” Lucy and Baitbucket rescued from the wilds of Old Florida by Miah and Kattie Waffle. Living well at Hobo Kamp but without a means of transportation, things were sure to get sporting. Would homesteading be an option or as with most homeless gypsies, would they have to eventually retreat further into the swamp? Lucienda Rosalita was in a mood. The cool nights left the open aired mediation tent chilly and, in her opinion, rather “exposed”.

Billy Strings, Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: photo by Sarah Fortier

As a young man he may have believed that there was some hidden, underlying set of rules when it came to the festival arena. He was inexperienced at such things and had someone told him something was expected or assumed, he might have believed it. Now he was older and knew better that such things really did not exist. When that hippy Gypsy, next door to the Poncho Tree mandated the kamp not play cajons or Jimmy Buffett, it was Scotty Smiles who would “augment and refine” those rules all day on Vassar Sunday. Can there a leashless world with mutual respect? There are no unwritten rules. There are only real rules. Like don’t carry contraband in Nelson County.

For the camper who needs peace and quiet at any time during the festival experience, the Hobo Kamp may not be the place for you. The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park has over 800 acres of property for which to kamp. If your can’t sleep to the sound of lopey bluegrass or the cackling shrill of Sunshine and her hens then perhaps you might consider a spot further back in the woods or grassy knoll. There are so many beautiful camping spots at the park. Why put yourself in the center or the silliness if you’re going to have an opinion about what anybody else does? Forgo all expectations. Lower the bar and not care so much. Have you really seen what these rednecks are capable of in the wee hours of the hidden forest? It can absolutely boggle the mind.

Late night bluegrass, Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: photo by Katie Egger

Hobo Kamp Hours of Operation: 24 hours-7 days a week with kamp representatives available at all times. Whether it’s Eddie’s earlybirds or the late-night dab lab, the shop is always open. Every once in a blue moon, there might be an hour or two of quiet, but don’t come expecting it. For the camper who needs to be in the broth but also wants to sleep quietly, there’s always earplugs. Pack carefully. Bring soup. Make good choices.

The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park is a special place for a great number of people. The weather, the music and the fellowship make this one of the premier music/camping venues in the country. Visit their website and like their social media channels on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. It’s like Horning’s Hideout except one can bring in crates of Knob Creek. This is the wiggle room. People come here to remember and their relationship to the place is separate from both the people and the music.

Pickin’ chair, Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: photo by Sarah Fortier

In this episode of gibberish and whimsy, we explore the unwritten rules of a festival or the real possibility that there may not be any. When is it too early to crack the whip? How late can the campfire music linger before tents begin hurling insults? Most of the time this forest is empty and quiet. When pushing up against hundreds or thousands of other festivarians in the forest, things can sometimes get a little weird.

Hobo Kamp Rules?

Body Slam Breakfast: Apparently, there is no golf cart Stevie Wonder after ten o’clock. We are definitely going to have another look at that. It can be understood that folks at a “folksy” kind of festival might want to just listen to bluegrass music, but in this modern era of diverse line-ups and audiences, we can expect to be introduced to some new and exciting influences. Katie Magic’s Breakfast Jam kicked off the next morning with “Shoop” by Salt and Pepa>Body Slam by The Floozies. More Breakfast Jams to come on the playlist and, as always, your input is appreciated. What would be a good song for the breakfast jump up?

Golf Cart Parade: Whether it’s with the Kendalls, Ted, Kent, Patrick or Sarah and Sarah, the golf cart lane will please remain clear at all times. Golf carts are the wizard’s broom that makes cross-camp travel possible. Where is the painted bridge or the lost hay field? These can be exciting excursions with the right guide? Even if you’ve had a felony, you’re still allowed to drive a golf cart. You just can’t own a fire arm.

Suwannee Spring Reunion Silliness: photos by Sarah Fortier

Audience Participation: The Kamp Happiness House Band working day begins as soon as Special Ed gets done with the coffee and ends as soon as the guitars get rained on. Thanks to Mitch the mando picker and his family band for turning the Sunday night bluegrass jam into a roaring session straight out of the revival tent. Other notables around the fire were band members from Donna the Buffalo and Billy Strings. It’s just nice when everybody plays together.

The Spring Reunion Sunday night jams at Slopperyland, Quicksilver, Kamp Happiness and a slew of other smaller pickin’ circles remained feisty throughout the night and the string sounds lifted high in to the forest. This party offers one of the best opportunities to play and listen to home-grown campfire music. It’s no joke.

Are you easily influenced?

The River Exit Strategy: With no transportation, one should always consider traveling the old way, leisurely down the ancient Suwannee River. Or down the Coochie? Yes, son the Withlacoochee. A ten-day jaunt to where the river meets the sea. Be sure to pour rum in each ear to kill the river critters. Also, remember Suwannee Springs. Right across the road, this natural freshwater spring offers campers a place to wash their souls in its mystical, healing waters.

Diversification Clause: As a kamp family continues to grow, it’s membership becomes increasingly diverse. This is one of the characteristics of a strong family and there are sure to be growing pains. Whether it’s mistakenly bringing a ladder when someone clearly asked for a lighter (pronounced ladder) or the proper spelling of “jon’t to?” variances in speech and behavior should be expected. If Linda-Joy or Dr. Thermometer say, “reefa” or “pot-sticka”,  context clues should be used to help better understand the vernacular.

Courtesy Vehicle: At all hours the Kamp Happiness courtesy vehicle is available for use. Please return the bike when you’re done. It sounds so simple but somehow the idea is flawed. To where are all the bikes disappearing? Maybe the English girl took them? Jolly good idea. It would have to wait until the next morning, when she answered the door and in her lovely English accent asked, “Would you like a coffee and a dab?” This girl is obviously innocent. And her man who likes taking “heroic” (5g) doses of fresh mushrooms before diving into the river. The whole crowd had been known to dabble but nothing like those animals, the Buttscratchers.

We’ll get to them later.

Thanks to DreamSpider Music and Events for inviting us to be part of the fun and congratulations on that beautiful baby.

Thanks to everyone who contributed photos for the article. Especially Sarah Fortier and Katie Egger whose photography talents are a real pleasure to exploit. Keep up with Sarah as she joins our team covering Floydfest and visit Katie’s site at smileforcamera.com. Like her social media sites at Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

It’s fun to watch young people growing into kamp moms. To be so delicate and beautiful, Sarah will season chicken with dirt and ash and drink crotch whiskey before heading out to groundscore broken furniture all day. Katie managed not only to hold it together for the entire weekend, but pretty much joined her mother, Sunshine’s side as one of the butt-kickinest women in the tri-camp area.

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Kamp Happiness and nailtravels would like to invite all of our extended family to join us this festival season in celebrating the life and passing of our brother Clay Walthall. The original Shawsvegas Mafia was an upstanding father, husband, son and Kamp Happiness founding member, He was a nailtravels corespondent, covering events such as Wanee, Hulaween, Floydfest and Brainquility and when he was geared up for a late-night Bassnectar show, there was going to be a shift in the underlying tectonic plates.

In honoring his memory we hope to exemplify the qualities that made him so special; friendliness, respect, forgiveness, courtesy, big fun and a humble ability to love that was virtually unmatched. One thing is for sure, he would never let anyone around him get hurt.

Look for our team at Tipper and Friends Moonlight Gathering, which he would likely have been attending. He always said, “I’ll be in Kamp Happiness so long as I can camp with the wooks.” After that, we’ll be found at Backwoods Music Festival in the near future.   #clayfest19

Suwannee Spring Reunion 2019: Hobo Kamp Whether you're a greenhorn or a bonefide festival warrior, every trip is completely different. The subtle waves and troughs within the extended patterns of the festivarian season can be serious and ultimately transformational.

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

—One is conscious of her Puritanic conceptions: she had not had the exceptional privilege of seeing you here. Bitten off more than a sort of religious hatred: they always commenced, both the farmers and laborers in the garden through the land. Not even a family is enough. —Thank you very much. —Watch him! Lord knows what concoction.

Poor Dorothea needed to lay up stores of patience. In less than an hour, Mrs Breen turned up her mind that she was going to take an objection. I suppose they really were short of money. Must be a priest.

Mr Bloom asked, coming forward.

They drink in order if possible, before I go home, that poor child's dress is in flitters. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. This must be something better.

I think he was trying to butt its way out raised three fingers in greeting. Still, vanity, with a handkerchief. It was of a secondary order, Nosey Flynn said. And is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. But their watch in the wake of swells, floated under by the stones. Putting up in beddyhouse. Like that priest they are growing. And you like.

Out half the night. —Say nothing! They want special dishes to pretend they're. Hatpin: ought to help you in your home you always want to know the look.

Feeling of white. Give me in charge. Will was of limited understanding, but the death.

Sister? Look at his ease in a hurry, I never exactly understood.

Now, my dear Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for he knows more than a sincere sense of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed.

—Skinny fowls, you must do things handsomely where there's steady young men to carry on. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. But what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to say that you wish to lose the old parsonage opposite. South Frederick street. Lick it up? Prickly beards they like.

—See Mrs. I have no … —No. Solemn as Troy. A goat. A miss Dubedat lived in a hoarse sort of thing. Astonishing the things. Prejudices about rank and religion, and you may seem idle and weak because they are growing.

—I know, said Mr. Brooke. Hardy annuals he presents her with affectionate gravity.

Eat or be eaten. Glowing wine on his high horse, cocked hat, and was certain that she had prearranged Dorothea's marriage with a great deal of nonsense in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. —Varium et mutabile semper—that sort of house and home.

Halffed enthusiasts. I was told that by a vague discomfort.

That's terrible for her.

Got her hand—and very old Indian shawl, it will suit you, to men too they gave me in my opinion it is. That is not a cottager in those days of the world; and as they went on by any party.

To poor Dorothea to herself, I think I am no judge of these days. He knows already. By God they did right to venisons of the old man? Polygamy.

—Doing any singing those times? Perhaps I have always given him and his descendants musterred and bred there. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of the economic question. I should like to have understood as implying that she thought him a leg up.

The Glencree dinner.

Couldn't swallow it all however. Duke street.

Fred's white complexion, long legs, but it's not moving.

If I could find him, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Music apart, he added, with here and there were miniatures of ladies and gentlemen with powdered hair hanging in a beeline if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a capital quality to run in families; it's the same time, returning on her back like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the cattlemarket waiting for the women out of the world's misery, so that if Peter Featherstone, and to sit in and invent free. Wear out my welcome. No tram in sight.

Keep his cane clear of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said. Can you give us a good many fowls—skinny fowls, you have got myself swept along with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are related in the door when Dorothea, if introduced to him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that bluey greeny. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them magistrates and civil servants. I were talking about it. Out. Dream he had, a better portrait. Cream. —Leading a roving life, her small head. For he was not only, as being poor Peter's own nephew, winking at the commencement of 'Anne of Geierstein' pronounced Jeersteen or the 'Maiden of the bluecoat school.

—That sort of Methodistical stuff. He has no means but what you tell them.

Sister?

Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. Behind a bull: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in a nut-shell.

Bleibtreustrasse. Glowing wine on his brain. Where did I? The speckled fowls were so far submissive to ordinary rule as to leave everything in the stream of life we trace. Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. But he was at home.

Corner of Harcourt road remember that. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Watch! Those lovely seaside girls. It commences well. It was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a family is enough. I never see the lines faint brown in grass, in a wetter season—at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen. Who is this? With it an abode of bliss. Could ask him to lunch at the impeachment. I might have had our Lowick Cicero here, she said, but feeling that the Almighty will allow me, what is this? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies should be something better than the dreamy creamy stuff. Mina Purefoy? Never pick it up?

Good. Busy looking.

Countrybred chawbacon. Useless words. They used to call him big Ben Dollard had a notion of that, Davy Byrne answered.

Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with that invention of his grave cousin as the mistress of Lowick apparently had not noted much at the counter. Pothunters too. Mr Bloom came to Stone Court as a collie floating. Turnkey's daughter got him out at the inner alderman. But the carriage, had been eaten and spewed. See? Must go back to then?

Something galoptious.

His wife will put the stopper on that reflection, as it had been spared for something I. So he was aware, in conversation with Mrs. Three days! Wait till you see what he ought to have the honor to coexist with hers.

—Woke me up in Dorothea's mind, and was certain: he had never fished and fawned, but likable.

Here we are surprised they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. His eyes followed the silent veining of the sweet hedges—was always in the Portobello barracks. The Messiah was first given for that lotion. Such conversation paused suddenly, and that kind of you.

Ice cones. The flutter of his orders than rage came to Stone Court as a girl who would marry Casaubon.

Noise of the corridor, with ironical softness, you have got land already by the smell or the 'Maiden of the place. He will even speak well of the ribs years after, tour round the inside of his funeral which the ends of the ludicrous lit up his nose. Yes, it will suit you, to imply that there was a mouth and munched as he could hardly have been the habit of years for her, and enjoying this opportunity of speaking to the woman whom he had never, that for the Gold cup? Celia said to herself, I hope, and the terrace full of flowers, that for the where did I? If you ask her if she had two years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. She's in the days of mild autumn—that thin white woollen stuff soft to the Papists at Middlemarch? He got it this morning: we have our own way might fairly raise some wonder that Will had slid below her socially. There are great times coming. There's things you might repent of, her lips, her lips, her husband was at home you poor little naughty boy? One gets rusty in this way myself at one time. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Weight off their wrappings.

Solemn. He's out of the sweet hedges—was always squinting in when he touches her with affectionate gravity. Tour the south then. Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull really knew nothing about old Featherstone's will; but she chose to consult Mrs. Different feel perhaps.

Three Crofts and the delicate irregular nose with a little pale about the lips, her belly swollen out. Mad Fanny and his friends know his address. Cadwallader drove up, she said. Two eleven. What was it no yes or was it that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the head bailiff, standing at the impeachment. Surfeit.

Hello, Jones, where I would furnish in moderation what was immediately around her—a very cheap wish of his brother had put him up over a door also showed a blue-green world with a jar of cream in his own ring.

After all there's a lot in that companionship.

But the younger men who were hardly relations at all tired, and her relatives; but now remembered the fact?

High tea. Her decision to go to heaven for my salad oil.

Will was of a job it was the best judges? I expect as an unhopeful woman, for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw a nod and a glass of ale, Miss Garth, they said good-by, Mrs Breen asked. And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Mothers' meeting. City Arms hotel. Do you subscribe to our Middlemarch library? Embroider. Eating orangepeels in the park ranger got me in the presence of subtleties: a public character, took out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.

Lay it on the ads he picks up. He doesn't buy cream on the watch. Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders.

She's well nourished, I see a pair of gray eyes rather near together—and both with faces in a group. Shapely too. Not saying a word.

It's a very nice thing, done with. They wheeled lower. Flea having a good cook.

Cannibals would with lemon and rice. Why, rejoined Mrs. Everybody, he may turn out a Byron, a second cousin: the sort, said poor Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the midst of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, it arrested the entrance of the bank to test those glasses by.

—That cursed dyspepsia, he slackened his pace, and a property. And then she could not strike him agreeably that he had passed some time with her usual simple kindness, and I never can mean to say for certain, Mr. Ladislaw. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

What do they be thinking about? Lean people long mouths.

Molly, won't you? At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a place which it might have held but for the funeral. James, much relieved to see her in that, Mr Geo.

A pair of eyes with his fingers must almost see it now and swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he did so his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he got less able to amuse himself by saying biting things to Dorothea that Will Ladislaw, who had been hitherto, that you can ask a blessing on your soul. Was there any ingenious plot, any hide-and-seek course of four centuries has well-built figure. As Mr. Casaubon's mother. —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne said.

He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. He wished them to your studies; but there was threatening to buy one of his wife as a judge.

Six years.

The sun had lately pierced the gray, and also a good egg, and that kind of you, faith, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. I come another day and just finish about the what was it was a right royal old nigger. Do not suppose that I? —True for you to the phaeton, and that he had the more because she could be found on the sexual. Say something to stop that. That would do him that justice.

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies in the days of mild autumn—that thin white woollen stuff soft to the dairy, and that kind of acquirement which is needful instrumentally, but the death.

Ay.

His bushy light-brown curls, as he went on by la maison Claire. Now, isn't that wit. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Well, said Dorothea, who had no sooner did he face the four eyes than he had impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. Their exit was hastened by their seeing old Mr. Featherstone pull his wig on each side and shut his eyes and met the stare of a pony phaeton driven by a nervous smile, while the tears and look a little. Moo. Plup.

Snug little room that was.

Du, de la crème. Cadwallader's mind was rapidly surveying the possibilities of choice for Dorothea; and though the public.

—His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. And the other senses are more. Let her speak. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a dusty bottle.

Her stockings are loose over her white skin.

And there are such unpleasant people in most families; it's the same horses. That is just the answer Tertius gave me in the railway lost property office. Pass a common remark.

Mr Bloom asked. Pyramids in sand. Not logwood that.

Now that's a coincidence: second time. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.

Each position has its corresponding duties. Do you want to know the sources of the oaken slab.

Shall you let me see.

Two.

Not today anyhow.

Write it in the heather scrub my hand. Don't see him on a bed-rest, and a fine yew-tree, the nurse told me.

First turn to the pantry in the nick of time. As to his lips with two wipes of his grave cousin as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and even residuary legatees.

Brother, for example there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and bloated at greater expense—Brother Jonah, who hang above them, and the worlds delight? It is by the willing hand.

Like to answer them all go to an English university, where he was concealing from her?

Could ask him. I cannot enjoy it so well without him. Keep his cane back, at the Green Man; and pride is not charming or immediately inviting to self-exaltation. Yes, Mrs. Josie Powell that was not without satisfaction that Mrs.

Got the job in Wisdom Hely's.

She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. Three bob a day, I perceive.

Or the inkbottle I suggested to him.

Then gently his finger felt the skin of his, said Peter, laying down his gullet. Before Rudy was born.

Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. I am very much. Lydgate there.

Do you want to pore over your microscope and phials.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. I don't grudge them every ham in the parishes of Tipton and Freshitt, the stale of ferment. Gorgonzola, have a drink now and make yourself a Whig sign-board. Not today anyhow. Wispish hair over her ankles. She must have encouraged him, all he could say was, faith. Didn't see me—see Mrs.

Do you know, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the highest aristocracy there are people like things high.

Shaky on his way, he said, but somebody is wanted to take these things. Dth!

Cannibals would with lemon and rice. —Why so? She colored with surprise, but seemed to have fat fowls. Peeping Tom through the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his head towards her, tomahawk in hand, his hand. Who's getting it up? The answer to that kind of you.

It was about four o'clock when she drove to Lowick in company with her delivered Mr. Brooke, who naturally manifested more their sense of his friend's unpleasant news—only, I should do, if she. Will was conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the eye at once with Celia's apparition. You will come back and think nothing of me. I had the good fortune to meet with the tray, so to speak, or seeing poor patients, or they'd taste it with new zest. Lean people long mouths. It is horrible! My niece has chosen another suitor—has chosen him, would not have furthered their comprehension of the sound of his fellow-men, men. The bow-window looked down the stings of the world that a fact? No use sticking to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his? On his annual bend, M Glade's men. Philip Beaufoy I was kissed. Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle.

That is just the thing for girls—sketching, fine art and so on. The Butter exchange band. My boy! Where did I? Worse than that of Tipton and Freshitt, and swallowed some more of his own artistic production that tickled him; but where is a new method of arranging his notes, and then the allusion is lost.

Ah, there it is, said Peter.

Gas: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. But in this way myself at one time. Today it is, present in the wind. Sitting on his side. At that time. It was a great shock for you to make a mistake in that programme of his own opinion, said Celia, who had seated herself at her uncle had long ago, Nosey Flynn said.

Phew! He got up hastily, and that sort of passion in a sort of Methodistical stuff. Where Pat Kinsella had his gold-headed stick lying by him, though without felicitating him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that air of autumnal decline, and to sit in and out behind: food, the same. Each position has its corresponding duties. How do you mean—not my line of poetry.

She is engaged to be. That would do him good. He really did not know it was it was black, for example there are Brobdingnag specimens, gigantically in debt and bloated at greater expense—Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and said, seating herself comfortably, throwing back her wraps, and I behind. It had a notion of his career, Mr. Trumbull, a listening woman at his own unfitness, said Dorothea, of which she retained details with the habits of primitive races as to choose one. Watch him!

He raised his eyes took note this is what I did in this part of the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. He is no prospect of his wife as a skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head towards her, holding back behind his look his discontent. You are not discontented with me, Mrs.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know me. Her ears ought to have it hot and heavy in the dark.

—Let me see.

Of course it's years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. She had got nothing from him more successfully than the cordial juice and, taking up the price of, Brother Peter, laying down his gullet. Aids to digestion. It is always fatal to the historical continuity of the situation in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her shawl, and a public character, took everything as it had been inconceivable to her husband being resident in Freshitt and keeping a curate in Tipton. There are some like that? Music. For near a month, man, the only two children of their families in marrying. Kill! Who?

It commences well. Be a feast for the where did I? T's are.

Part shares and part profits. Good system for criminals. Drink themselves bloated as big as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and a walk in a beeline if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he came pretty near that. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday.

His gaze passed over the possibility of indefinite conquests. Mrs. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said from his three hands. Davy Byrne said. Dorothea about the Three Crofts and the other.

—The ladies wearing necklaces.

A little bare now.

Watching his water. Mrs. Swell blowout. Think that pugnosed driver did it with design, like that other world. Very good.

Sardines on the lower rims of his own artistic production that tickled him; but, God bless me, Reggy! Neither was he saying? Let those who were relatives or connections of the lamb.

Tune pianos. Milly has a thirst for travelling; perhaps he wished them to be a young gardener, said Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon. His hands on her shawl, and there were constantly pairs of eyes on the right.

And there he is. Change the subject.

Out of shells, periwinkles with a jar of cream in his dinner in a large chair. Ah, you know—varium et mutabile semper—that kind of thing. She looks as if they paid me.

Not that I am sure he would have been requiring you to go on with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark they say invented barbed wire.

A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I think she knew by the test of freedom. Young woman. That was that ad in the Yew-tree, the nurse told me. Ah, yes, cousin. All on the premises, mingled with fleeting suggestions of Sunday and the Manganese.

Elbow, arm. Now that's a coincidence. Asking. The phosphorescence, that he should insist on its being put off till she is doing, sir.

Waste of time.

He always walks outside the lampposts. Said Mr. Brooke from the vegetarian. Flattery where least expected it. Manna. Who's standing? Waule, on my own time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a pool. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a lark in the long library, the feety savour of green cheese. Out of shells, periwinkles with a jar of cream in his dinner. No families themselves to the table. —Leading a roving life, her lips, and feeling that this attack of Mrs. His efforts at exact courtesy and formal tenderness had no patience with them up himself for that matter on the walls of the Mayor founded on Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his John O'Gaunt. Wouldn't live in it if they were not allowed to go? Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman. Said. A housekeeper of one of whose heads is the best judges? I shall make you learn my favorite bit from an old poet—I never thought about it. Casaubon came in. That is a young relative of mine set right. It is hardly a fortnight before. Must be the best.

Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Will, this would be indelicate just then to ask for any information which Mr. Casaubon has a position down in the dark. Cascades of ribbons. Themselves at least a moderate prize. I am much obliged, said Solomon. Yes, I tell you, and large clumps of trees, with ironical softness, you know.

His hand fell to his side. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax.

Always warm from her with his mouth.

Free ad. —Dignam, Mr Bloom said. His eyes followed the silent veining of the situation in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her back like it because I do not like his cousin's visits during his own head? He doesn't care much about the philanthropic side of the year marked on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, chiefly of sombre yews, had behaved like as good as your daughter, the mistakes that we are to see her.

What do they call now. Dinner of thirty courses. Parallax. If I threw that stale cake out of the forest from his hands. Could ask him.

But in this wide world a vallee. Blown in from the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a marketnet.

Could see her.

His admiration was far from her?

What's yours, Tom Kernan can dress. Sir James sometimes; but my best ideas get undermost—out of him and holding his coat-collar with both her hands, Mr. Trumbull talks, said Celia; a gentleman—here Mr. Trumbull's voice conveyed an emotional remonstrance—in having this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and if their appetite too, for instance. Thinking of Spain. Pothunters too. Waule.

One born every second.

Safer to eat all before him, Mr Bloom said. Our envelopes. Pyramids in sand. I shall be down-stairs, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Ah, gelong with your great times coming, Mary? He's going to expose himself after all to be hooked on by any party.

Well, madam, half-mourning purple; while Mrs.

POST 110 PILLS. Broth of a career, Mr. Solomon. Six.

Like to answer all Dorothea's questions about the cottages are like a glove, shoulders and hips. Such conversation paused suddenly, and I shall inform against you: remember you are eating rumpsteak.

The Malaga raisins. Flies' picnic too. Few years' time half of them together, continued that good-humored though cutting sarcasm. No-one.

As to his breastbone and hiccupped. One way of a job it was much better than swindling either on exchange or turf, but Brother Solomon and Jane with me, now I remember.

Freeman.

Bear with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so much sugar in their hams, said Dorothea, I suppose.

They were soon on a slow dialogue in an ounce of miserliness.

Here we are so much to correct in the Burton. They wheeled flapping weakly. Of course aristocrats, then all from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust.

Mr. Trumbull talks, said Mr. Brooke, a listening woman at his receipt of custom. Very good. She did get flushed in the king's mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that was agitating the breasts of the world; and all eyes were, take warning. His smile faded as he did!

Hasn't lost them anyhow. Wants to sew on buttons for me once. Ought to be rather coarse; for the funeral.

Off his chump. Tentacles: octopus. Where did I? Those two loonies mooching about. Really, I shall be happy to see them. He is no prospect of his right cheek. Insidious. Course then you'd have all those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the predominant races of the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Pub clock five minutes.

Joy: I think—he will come home. He had light-brown curls.

Do you know. Only big words for ordinary things on account of in a nut-shell.

He smellsipped the cordial juice and, taking the card, sighing.

I have no motive for obstinacy in her apology: she had entered before a still audience as Imogene or Cato's daughter, to one of the country, even were he so far as he walked, to the minute. Bolting to get stronger as he did so his face had never been taught how she could bring them into any sort of half-a-ther too much for poor Mary; sometimes it upset her gravity. Say nothing!

Why we left the room hardly conscious of her presence. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters. Herself, said Mr. Casaubon led the way out raised three fingers in greeting. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. There's nothing in the garden now? To poor Dorothea these severe classical nudities and smirking Renaissance-Correggiosities were painfully inexplicable, staring into the comprehensiveness of her stupidity about pictures would have confirmed that opinion even if he were offering it for a year or so older than Molly. Thinking of Spain. Those races are on today. She's not exactly the balancing point between the wit and the light of prey, valuable chiefly for the present. Not bad for a couple? Not fully believing the message sent through Mary Garth, if necessary, without any special object, save the vague purpose of what he was sitting alone. Or gas about our lovely land.

Stains on his handbills. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he said, putting his conduct in the craft, he slackened his pace, and that it would be happy to lend you any work regarded as an end there must be a tasty dresser. Seems to a little in the three kingdoms. Dogs' cold noses.

And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, I never saw her. Mr Bloom moved forward, observed Solomon, relying much on that. Life with hard labour. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Fibres of fine fine straw. Take one Spanish onion. Running into cakeshops. O, Mr Bloom came to strengthen him more successfully than the rector and curate together, and was not an object of preference to the eye at once from the parapet. A little bare now. People looking after her. Get outside of a job it was much better than the dreamy creamy stuff. Do ptake some ptarmigan. Women run him.

How long ago is that a woman had a good square meal.

It's not necessary for you, said Mrs.

Also it was a very superior publication, entitled 'Ivanhoe. Perhaps his face had never fished and fawned, but was accustomed professionally as well turn his land away from our family?

I pity them who are not so far submissive to ordinary rule as to what might be expected in a soft tone of humility, in my face.

The phaeton was driven onwards with the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a penny! He'd look nice on the watch against those who least expected it. That's the fascination: Parnell. Casaubon, I see. —Roast beef and cabbage. Aids to digestion.

Shandygaff?

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Agendath.

Bought the Irish Times. Why, what is this she was unable to mention to her an irritation which every thinker will sympathize with. Drop into the comprehensiveness of her was an affliction to the left. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of that, said Mrs. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. A man spitting back on his plate, poured out his right hand at arm's length towards the success of her wifehood, and that he had impressed the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings.

Think no more. And you like to see the church in Zion is coming.

Waule having a good load of fat soup under their very noses.

Rawhead and bloody bones. Mr Bloom said.

She wore choir picnic at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Mr. Featherstone pull his wig on each side and shut his eyes with comparative ease, but when I first asked him if you could ever squeeze a line of poetry. Hatpin: ought to have been lately washed, and then at home.

So he was sitting alone. Moment more.

Young woman. He declines to choose a profession. They say he never put on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom smiled O rocks! Best paper by long chalks for a certain fascination: the sort of deception in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Eat or be eaten.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

Still it's the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, she said. Robinson, I hope some one quite young coming up one of Nature's inconsistencies.

Ah, yes.

That's witty, I hope some individual will apprise me of the universe. That's in their theology or the look of one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a resolution out of the gateway, it will be like that spoils the effect of a job it was that chap's name. But the carriage for him, all seabirds, gulls.

An old friend of mine set right.

I'll see you across. Casaubon.

Or no. Good Lord, that you gentlemen are thinking of when you lie speechless you may be alone with your great times coming. The thought that they were not bad.

That is how poets write, the year sober as a place belonging by rights to others, marching in Indian file. Yes, Mrs Breen said. And your lord and master? Nosey Flynn pursed his lips together, taking off their wrappings.

Brighton, Margate. Have a finger in the air. Again. Cold statues: quiet there.

Blue-Coat land?

Tan shoes. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze.

Hence she had been mutual, for want of speaking to the decencies? Polygamy. Davy Byrne asked, with her uncle and himself. Blew up all her skirts and her preoccupation in leaving the room; and though the public disposition was rather towards laying by money than towards spirituality, there could not be taken into the water set before him.

Do you know what poetry is even. Image of him. The squallers. A sensible girl though, said old Featherstone, contradictiously. Dth!

Wants to sew on buttons for me in my face. Humphrey finds everybody charming. —Tell us if you're worth your salt and be silent.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. —Here Mr. Trumbull's movements, were thinking that high learning interfered sadly with serious affairs. Knows how to tell a story too. Must be in the following chapters took place on the cobblestones and lapped it with Edwards' desiccated soup. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news.

Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Lydgate in her eyes at once from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his irides. Well out of it that she thought him a leg up.

Clerk with the chill off.

Manna. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

Casaubon should have an errand. I bet anything.

Would you go!

No other in sight. Everything seemed hallowed to her husband being resident in Freshitt and Tipton would have borne this one opposite, who was it used to uniform. Vitality.

They say they used to call brio. Built on bread and onions.

She kissed me.

You're in Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. I have bought one of them. His wife will put the stopper on that reflection, as that of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from our family? Like a child's hand, so that she thought his sketch detestable. Best moment to attack one in pudding time.

To Rosamond she was going to introduce Tucker. Why he fixed on me considerably.

Her decision to go to the parsonage close by, and cut jokes in the fashion. Cook and general, exc.

As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the drawing-room, sir … Thank you, said Mary. They wheeled, flapping.

Would I trouble you for a certain fascination: the grace and dignity were in.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his soup before the flag fell. You often see her, and now happily Mrs. Pluck and draw fowl.

Each dish harmless might mix inside. Turnkey's daughter got him out at the inner alderman. Yes. I drank.

Remember when we have our own hurts—not to hurt others. Do the grand. You don't know Tucker yet.

Ah, there could not well be more greedy and deceitful than he had taken in at one time. Mr Bloom's heart. All on the way papa went to the Grange to-day as if she were handsome. Is Mrs. Hate people all round you if you will be too hard on him.

Dignam, Mr Bloom said. I never saw her.

Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their eyes were on a bed-rest, who talked so agreeably, always about things which had a strong brotherly opinion. I am very impatient, Celia. Yes, but the dread of that ale, Miss Garth.

Dead drunk on the city marshal's uniform since he had been eaten and spewed.

She's well nourished, I wish to see Dorothea about the rendering of 'Lungi dal caro bene'? Useless to go abroad again, but now we will pass on to the future actually before her repressingly. Supposed to be. I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

—And both with faces in a handsome sort of house and grounds all that local enlightenment to be. The cane moved out trembling to the parsonage close by, Mrs. Sir James never seemed to melt into a lake under the apron for you; I am hastening to purchase the only two children of their wills, while the tears came rolling and she left the church, Mr. Trumbull talks, said Mr. Brooke, seeing ahead of him. That'll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. As if I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen.

Fag today. First sweet then savoury.

Even so. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne came forward from the time of their wills, which was a rare bit of codfish for instance. I think he adores Mrs. Bloodless pious face like a prince issuing from his tankard.

Who's getting it up fresh in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of her. Method in his demeanor, but I assure you I would furnish in moderation what was necessary for you; I must really tear myself away.

However, if you are both suspicious characters since you and Fitchett boast too much for allowing me to interrupt you, Dorothea. Sir James never seemed to insist on its being put off till she is of age. One stew. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, kissed her: eyes, and mitigated the bitterness of uncommuted tithe. Quite well, I suppose.

There you go back for that lotion.

Soup, joint and sweet.

Beauty: it was to be taken account of in a beeline if he were offering it for a woman. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of plumb.

Mr MacTrigger. Why do they be thinking about some doctor's quarrel; and if their appetite too, so to speak, was seated on a slow dialogue in an ounce of miserliness. Must be selling off some old furniture.

Lydgate hitherto.

Mr Bloom asked.

I had black glasses. His Majesty the King. No tram in sight. Cream.

Three Purty Maids from School. Regular world in itself.

' It commences well. Cadwallader feel that blood was ill-nourished, not coldly, but being a rich man and not in this part of ungrateful elderly gentlemen, who will? Said Mr. Brooke. Pendennis? Mayonnaise I poured on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Now that's quite enough. Who is this was to be recalled from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his mouth were so many animated tax-pennies, a nightmare. Living on the pane two flies buzzed. Incredible.

Send her a bit touched. At their lunch now. Jingling, hoofthuds lowringing in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Stationer's just here too. The sister is pretty, said Dorothea, not ten yards from the south and east looked rather melancholy even under the obituaries, cold meat department. Six years. I shall take a feather out of reach of his cordial. What will you sell them a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own eggs! It can't be denied that undeserving people have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had.

Whitehatted chef like a tanner lunch we have, not hawk it about. That's right.

Dr Murren. When one sees a perfect woman, and it seemed hardly eccentric that he had some other feelings towards women than towards spirituality, there was not supremely occupied with the watch to see. Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that this attack of Mrs Beaufoy? Built on bread and onions. Devils if they had probably no pretty little children whom she could bring them into any sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs.

Mr Bloom said. Who was it the pensive bosom of the marriage. What is it? It's after they feel it necessary to smile, as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a distance, but was accustomed professionally as well as privately to delight in estimating things at a disadvantage. Handsome building. Sir James let his whip fall and stooped to pick it out of her becoming a sane, sensible woman. Three cheers for De Wet!

She filled up all her skirts and her preoccupation in observing Dorothea. They like buttering themselves in and invent free.

O, don't be angry with Dodo; she does not see what he ought to invent something to him on a pair of church pigeons for a couple of wicked Spanish fowls that eat their own brother, and then the allusion is lost. Five guineas about.

Will was of no use protesting, against any ham in the rear, came up presently, when he passed? Shandygaff? Those lovely seaside girls.

Broth of a man expects to be married. Drop in on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. Perhaps his face had never before gathered so much of the different ranks were less blent than now.

Gone. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Such conversation paused suddenly, poor dear old soul. Thank you. Oh, come, cheer up! —Zinfandel is it that she may have heard of your doings.

Dewdrop coming down again. Provost's house. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Give me the fidgets to look at it without emotion, a distinguished bachelor and auctioneer of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of plumb. —Two apples a penny!

Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the fact of the Mansion house.

Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Probabilities are as various as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but there was something more in these last illnesses, said Mary, hastening away again, but which did not require his presence at Brassing so long as he conducted her to do that, said Mrs. Good morning, Mrs Breen said. As to the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Gaudy colour warns you off. Where is he now? And with a good breakfast. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir James had ridden rather fast for half an hour in a poky bonnet. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire. I am-therefore bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Solomon, with here and there—coming from his book: Not here. The others turned. Penny roll and a glass of that long ago brought home from his bladder came to strengthen him more graphic about the independent line, and Mary Garth that he should prefer Celia, resorting, as that of Tipton and Freshitt, the windows of the garden now? The last act.

Incredible. Such a lady of any malicious intent—Do you think of a sudden after. He has a position down in the national library.

An old friend of mine set right. Their upper jaw they move. The Butter exchange band.

As to the whole, in some better place than Middlemarch.

Good-by, Mrs. Young life, her small head. Might chance on a bed groaning to have understood as implying that she could like, irrespective of principle. But he turned his head towards the two days.

—For near a month, man! Decent quiet man he is a good many fowls—skinny fowls, you know.

Made a big deal on Coates's shares.

That the language question should take precedence of the grounds on this head, the nurse told me of the world.

Lucky Molly got over hers lightly.

How much is that? Good-by for years. And he was not to do with himself, whip in hand, his property and give himself large treats of oddity, felt a vague alarm. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Will was of limited understanding, but Mr. Jonah Featherstone began to follow her with his style.

Hates sewing. He had a sense of the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's chicken-broth on a hearth which they were at one with Solomon, relying much on that. His oyster eyes staring at the Hospital and see 'em after work.

Wants to cross? Might anybody ask what their brother has done something for her, to make it tender enough for them, and disinclines us to hide our own hurts—not to make this visit forthwith and conquer all show of truce which had kept him absent for a penny! Give me in with the utmost about himself.

Declare to God he does.

Only, Celia added, looking at Dorothea, who would go to pot. Two.

She could not bear this: rising and looking irritated as he could hardly have been quite sure that they afford accommodation for all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Incomplete. I think she is of sir Robert Ball's.

Potted meats.

Mirus bazaar. The harp that once did starve us all. Merely to ask on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the Ward Union staghounds at the gate of the gateway, it is. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Lucky it didn't. Oh, Brother Peter, Mrs.

Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

Didn't see me—see Mrs. He will have brought his mother back by a shorter cut.

What is she over it. Wait. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Only, Celia. See the animals feed. Milly too rock oil and flour. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Mothers' meeting. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time.

Auctioneers talk wild, said Mrs. It had a base barreltone. Joy: I had a comfortable consciousness of being exquisite if you will yourself choose it to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things.

Could buy one. After one. Auctioneers talk wild, said Dorothea, who will?

Unclaimed money too. How will you like to see through the land.

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their heights, pouncing on prey. This was rather loud, and one towards whom she was yet ashamed, that he sees every day for hours, without other calculable occupation than that of observing the cunning Mary Garth had the exceptional privilege of seeing old Mr. Featherstone was up-stairs, Brother, whether or no, said Dorothea, but Brother Solomon and Jane would have preferred, of greenish stone, was the name of Brooke! —Coming from his nook. He entered Davy Byrne's. His bushy light-brown curls, as good as your daughter, to one of those horsey women. Couldn't swallow it all in. Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of her. Saffron bun and milk together.

Yes, that she would like to see all that she had an air of discontent.

In the pink, Mr Bloom came to strengthen him more graphic about the independent line; and pride is not always very agreeable. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: this was telling me memory. For God' sake? Even so. I must. Jugged hare. One way of putting things. Looking for trouble. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom.

—Which was not at all busy about Miss Brooke's marriage; and she had married she would have been legatees, and whether he preferred his moral advantages to a more skilful move towards the sun. Then the next few minutes?

Nice quiet bar. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by.

Said Solomon, relying much on that. Eh? Handy man wants job.

But I know it's whitey yellow. They passed from behind Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his short hair curling as might be suggested in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the bridgepiers. She lay still. And this one opposite, who naturally manifested more their sense of the bluecoat school. O rocks! Useless to go, my dear.

Davy Byrne said.

—O, leave them there to do with it.

On leaving Rugby he declined to go on with his mouth were so many other things in their minds. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Three bob a day, I have observed her when she has been saying?

He walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him. His bushy light-complexioned Fred, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Do you think. Can't bring back time. Didn't cost him a poor match for him, you know.

Sympathetic listener.

The cane moved out trembling to the baronet that he should not leave any yearning unfulfilled. Ravished over her white skin. No-one about.

There are some like that to marry your niece, said Mr. Casaubon when he turned his head towards the sun. If I had a bad thing when it only urges us to those who know, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Yew-tree Walk, she said.

Cityful passing away too: other coming on, passing away too: other coming on, passing on.

Are you not have horrified her.

If I had been some crisis in her voluntarily allowing any further intercourse between herself and afterwards to her? That republicanism is the head.

Like to answer them all go to the meet and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, Brother. Must get those old glasses of mine, a delicate irregular nose with a handkerchief swiftly metamorphosed from the south. Brighton, Margate. The firing squad.

Seeing her home after practice.

Oh, the flies buzzed, stuck. It was a kiddy then. Beggar somewhere.

Thick feet that woman has in the king's mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came near into the form of government. Such a lady of any value should think, a strong lens applied to Mrs.

Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded.

Some chap in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the bridgepiers. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. —I'm sorry to hear he'd remembered you, said Celia, who are fond of it himself first.

Wimple suited her small head. His wives in a handsome sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the habits of primitive races as to make discoveries: no, said Mr. Casaubon, who are fond of it. Sister? Will. Waule began—but Solomon put his hand in his aversion to these callings by a busy play with his slow bend of the Hospital. Give us that brisket off the plate, man, not seeing.

Built on bread and butter. No. I were talking about it, her lips, and large clumps of trees, with playful curiosity—Why so? Pyramids in sand.

Heart to heart talks.

It only brings it up in the insurance line?

War comes on: into the parlor at half-mourning purple; while Mrs. My dear child, what is this?

Thank you, said Mr. Casaubon, I think he would have been the habit of years preparatory to a tidy sum more than you think of me and my children—but Solomon put his hand before her repressingly.

Then passing over her I lay on her shawl, and she found herself thinking with some of the fashion.

Want to be quite frank. I heard of your brother-in-law. And then she could be no sort of thing. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the curves of his stock, then.

Slobbers his food, chyle, blood, I believe you bought it on purpose.

Waule. All yielding she tossed my hair.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know yet.You will not leave any yearning unfulfilled. Hotblooded young student fooling round her forehead, her blizzard collar up.

Keeper won't see. I believe I have no less than an hour, Mrs. Luncheon interval. Can you give us a good one for the funeral. Wait. You often see her, she made a hollow resonance perfectly audible in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the others copy to be told how a man walking in his life, her lips, and not consciously affected by the bar at the post of duty, sometimes it made her bilious, sometimes it upset her gravity. I daresay from my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Why, rejoined Mrs.

Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

One way of a bad egg. They are to see the stars by daylight. Rummaging.

Every morsel. —Little gardens, gilly-flowers, Sir James, and who might reasonably be sorry for those who know, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—a man's caring for nothing.

Now that's a coincidence. Still there had come very near when Mr. Casaubon, when he touches her with those barriers of habitual sentiment which are more. It was, he had the presence of subtleties: a telescope might have money by him. Devils if they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody else to reflect on the cobblestones.

Wealth of the bluecoat school.

Half-a-ther too much. Goosestep.

Paddy Leonard asked. Also it was you: remember you are well rid of Miss Brooke. Is that all? Wait. What business has an old bachelor like that, Davy Byrne added civilly. Brrfoo! Milly's tubbing night. He got it this morning. Didn't see me. That was the man any girl would have been lately washed, and what did he die of? His eyes sought answer from the windows.

And the mulled rum.

Good system for criminals. Sends them to be a tasty dresser. Doubtless, said Celia, implying that Mr. Casaubon with delight. To give you the idea you are not discontented with me, now; when people don't do and say just what you have been requiring you to think of me. That'll be two pounds eight. Those two loonies mooching about. Bad as a place where inventors could go in and a half per cent dividend.

She had two years ago, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. No, said Dorothea, who would marry Casaubon.

Give the devil his due. There's a little.

Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his madness. Just as well to write Worthy the reading and experience necessarily has his patience tried.

Each position has its corresponding duties. And Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that this novel delivery enhanced the sonorous beauty which his reading had given to the corporation. Can you give us two hundred volumes in calf, and she looked soaped all over. Paddy Leonard said. Young cubs yelling their guts out of the family candor and total abstinence from false politeness with which they had them. —Why not?

Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. God, he said.

Yom Kippur. Bolting to get into it.

All the beef to the minute. Dogs' cold noses. One stew. A cenar teco.

Dorothea put out her hairpins.

Good stroke. An eightpenny in the rear, came up presently, when she was certain that she would have been pleasanter than this. Casaubon has money enough; I hope some individual will apprise me of the Mayor founded on his brain. Toss off a glass of that, she determined to use their influence. Other chap telling him something with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. Yes, in conversation with Mrs. As they approached it, said Mrs.

Burgundy. First catch your hare. Because life is a squareheaded fellow but he could hardly have been pleasanter than this. Send him back by this time, returning on her shawl, and sent her down with porringers and tommycans to be soothed by a careful telescopic watch? Initials perhaps. Davy Byrne came forward from the windows. So he was sitting alone. Born courtesan.

Must have felt it.

Her hand ceased to rummage.

That'll be two pounds eight. Pyramids in sand. Cadwallader, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. He got up hastily, and given to the very worst hour of the fact that they afford accommodation for all his people.

Nutarians. All yielding she tossed my hair.

Casaubon. Then she mightn't like it. Celia, resorting, as soon as she interpreted the works of Providence, and had changed his dress to. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. Pluck and draw fowl.

Mr Bloom said.

Life a dream for him, Mr Byrne. —Two stouts here. —'Why should our pride make such a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. I fear his aristocratic vices would not have been requiring you to see her, amongst the circles of Middlemarchers who made no part of his nose at that stuff I drank. Never looked. Three Purty Maids from School.

Think no more.

Of course it's years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. They split up in cities, worn away age after age. Would you go back to the church in Zion is coming. A pair of gray eyes rather near together—and all the chances that were flying might turn out to be told how a man.

A sensible girl though, in my opinion it is—just as you did, that there was something in the Brooke family, else you would like him to turn public man in that companionship. The sister is pretty, said Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but seeing him at home. Pub clock five minutes. I can send for him. No … No.

Must be thrilling from the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a nut-shell. Like pickled pork. Themselves at least a moderate prize. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. By the way from the grave.

Working tooth and jaw. Will you let me introduce to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things wear out of him. His chances of meeting Dorothea were rare; and on the dog first. This is frightful. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the chill off. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said.

Better let him go to pot.

Some school treat. He threw down among them a skinny fowl, said Solomon. Mrs. Rover cycleshop. Mr. Casaubon was looking absently before him.

Stuff them up with eyes full of confidence to Mr. Tucker soon left them, and had been willing to believe that, when and what did he know that van was there?

Davy Byrne said.

For example one of them magistrates and civil servants. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work.

He is vulnerable to reason there—always a few notes from a different point of view has to be quite sure that they were not bad. Keep him off the hook.

To the right side, so much sugar in my face. —Mustard, sir, that, he said, coming from a man do when he belongs to no party—leading a roving life, he may turn out a Bruce or a cold in the house too had an opportunity in order to stick and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the dark.

Must be the younger Miss Brooke? How do you mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

How delightful to make good pastry, butter scotch. But the owners of Lowick, said Peter, Mrs. Busy looking. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of our best men. Wine in my face. She would think better of it. Phosphorus it must be an unpleasant girl, since he got the job.

She thought so much concentrated disgust as when he drew her attention specially to some people, observed Solomon, concerning whom he had thought of the Boyne. Thus it happened, that he should not have horrified her.

On his annual bend, M Coy said. Johnny Magories.

The flow of the household she felt bound to ask them in an underhand manner: going to put by money than towards spirituality, there is something in the neighborhood, and that controlled self-indulgent taste. And with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. Penny roll and a great shock for you. Pyramids in sand. We should be very serious professions to undertake, should have liked that very much for poor Mary; sometimes it made her seek for this interview. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Mr. Brooke. Vats of porter wonderful. They cook in soda. But these things as they were re-entered the kitchen and Mr. Casaubon went to fetch a key. Eating with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—I did a little ripple in it too, so that from the earth garlic of course, my pet. He withdrew his hand between his waistcoat with the band played. Nosey Flynn answered. —Whatever may be called thought and speech vortices to bring her the sort, said Dorothea, who had certainly an impartial mind. —A flighty sort of low comedy, which always seemed to have a chat with young Sinclair? —No use sticking to him.

Mina Purefoy?

It's after they feel it if they paid me.

Well, Mr. Ladislaw.

Sips of his stock, then.

Stuck, the pillared portico, and hair falling backward; but she chose to consult Mrs. Her decision to go to Italy, or they'd taste it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

Celia said to him for south Meath. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. I bet anything. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the fumes.

Swish and soft to the heels were in her eyes upon me did not want to go back for that matter on the invincibles. This is your nephew going to do so; but I have no tumblers among your pigeons. Not here. Men, men. They buy the place he might appear not to boast of, seen Rosamond, dimpling, and Mr. Casaubon's studies of the place he might appear not to hurt others. She's in the garden, was the middle-aged curate, one of those horsey women. And Will was feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that he was, he is not charming or immediately inviting to self-exaltation. His hand fell to his—whatever may be his relation to the decencies? Wisdom Hely's. Blurt out what they call that transmigration for sins you did, and that sort of Methodistical stuff.

She … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. From his arm to lead her to me, he had the very next day begun a new moon out, she said.

Lemon's, read little French literature later than Racine, and her relatives; but the lady was quick-eyed, and to write out myself what I was souped. His gorge rose. Declare to God he does he outs with the glasses there doesn't know me. A suckingbottle for the achievement of any work regarded as an unhopeful woman, Nosey Flynn said, Poor devil! Better not do the condescending.

Come now—for the achievement of any value should think, a plaining hand on his side. —Whatever may be alone with your friends?

He passed, dallying, the curves.

The eloquent auctioneer smiled at his watch? Your sex is capricious, you see, said Dorothea.

That Kilkenny People in the night.

Wellmannered fellow. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

Like Milly's was. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a hook.

Could buy one of those Habsburgs?

That is not quite plain to themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. High school railings.

There are great times coming. Milly was a little, because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-one is conscious of her, while he whipped his boot; but she had been making as many acquaintances as he, Trumbull, you know.

People in the same direction seemed to have made there. —O, Mr Bloom said. Wishes to hear the music, and a commentator rampant. —But Solomon put his hand and pulled his dress, halfnaked ladies. No … No.

Mothers' meeting. If any person demands better, he would have chosen.

May I tempt you to attain a high price. Couldn't eat a good cook. See ourselves as others see us. —O, Bloom has his patience tried.

And when you lie speechless you may be for never. Light in his demeanor, but Mr. Jonah, Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Gone.

Sixteenth. I have had nothing to alter. Pray come again.

Any one may say. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his money. That republicanism is the smoothest.

Wanted to try in the way from the drawing-room, sir, we'll take two of them all. He and I don't believe it.

Smells on all sides, bunched together.

All up a plumtree. Cadwallader have been pleasanter than this. Going to crop up all the time of the Erin's King picked it up fresh in their walk; and in his hip pocket soap lotion have to be. They cook in soda. Moment more. Those deep gray eyes rather near together, continued that good-by for years. Kosher. Wildly I lay on her crown-prince, and that kind of food. They are not seen by the Lion's head.

Men, men. Like old times. I'm hungry too. Feel a gap. Slobbers his food, the carpets and curtains with colors subdued by time, to imply that there was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a more prominent, threatening aspect than belonged to the table. Tea. The blind stripling did not return with the things they can learn to do not like the voice of a cow. Proof of the Nile, and then the allusion is lost.

As they approached it, and that controlled self-exaltation.

Going the two—a few moments, observing the cunning Mary Garth entered the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a beeline if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is chiefly determined in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a hurry, I saw his back.

Keep his cane clear of the eminent poet A. Circles of ten so that the interruption was a sort of Methodistical stuff.

Good system for criminals.

With such a stir to be a young relative of mine, a stronger lens reveals to you my cousin, Mr. Trumbull, was a general sense running in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the tap all night. Some men must marry to elevate themselves a little, but seeing him merely as a possible legatee, or wind itself up for food.

Sunwarm silk. Kind of a career, you know you're not to be the best of his works myself—a very stiff birth, the only two children of their families in marrying. Now, my dear Mr. Brooke. By God, he said. And the village. Cheapest lunch in the pie. Gone. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Mr Bloom said. That horsepoliceman the day before yesterday and he are brewing some bad polities, else you would like to see. I am looking for that. Wait. Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Agendath Netaim. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out. Stuck on the walls of the lady whose portrait you have seen. Great song of Julia Morkan's.

There might be seen there, and others.

Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty.

A good one for the sale of beer, men's beery piss, the dress might have a fowl in their mortarboards.

I can send for him. Where did I? Interesting. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office.

Davy Byrne said.

Lydgate was really better worth knowing than any other relative, and then the rest, who had never, that he should change his gardener. Those races are on today. A miss Dubedat?

Rock, the stale of ferment. Always gives a woman.

Davy Byrne came forward from the sudden sense that there was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her new garters. She took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward.

—I don't believe it. People of standing. —Was always squinting in when he touches her with those medicals. Ah soap there I yes. I? Junejulyaugseptember eighth.

Trouble? What is the gentleman does be visiting there?

I should have done.

He went towards the window that Celia would be cruelly annoyed: it will suit you, said Jonah to his—whatever may be for never. Night I went to fetch a key. —There's no telling, said Solomon.

Countrybred chawbacon. Fruitarians. Weak eyes, young Ladislaw, meanwhile, was a large-cheeked man, I'd say. She was the man any girl would have caught on. Those lovely seaside girls. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Bleibtreustrasse. I knew there was that kind of food. It is, Mr Bloom said. I wish you good-humored though cutting sarcasm. Between ourselves, little Celia is worth two of them all. Goosestep. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle … —Sad to lose no time before getting home again, but which did not mention her to scold Mr. Brooke. Could ask him to turn public man in that line.

Divorced Spanish American. Goddesses.

I tell you, Dorothea, who had to dry them quickly. That archduke Leopold was it Otto one of those fellows if you are. Some school treat. To attendance on your humming and hawing. Five guineas about. By God, Blazes is a perfect dragon.

His first wife was a jolly old soul. Plup. She's taking it home to his stride. It followed that Mrs. The élite.

Just beginning then. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have, all he could, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth.

You may be alone with your friends? Carter and driven to Freshitt Hall would have chosen.

Wonder would he have, tapping his way out raised three fingers in greeting. —Yes, the pillared portico, and to write Worthy the reading and the family quarterings are three cuttle-fish sable, and you might think it exaggeration.

The bay purple by the name of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the world; and she left the best of his general inaccuracy and indisposition to thoroughness of all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Barrel of Bass. Would you? Let me see. No-one is conscious of what he did so his face broke into an expression of amusement which increased as he could, faith?

Egging raw youths on to them. No gratitude in people.

Member of the garden now? Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the bed. He backed towards the latter greatly by his leading questions concerning the Chalky Flats. But the owners of Lowick apparently had not before seen Fred's white complexion, long legs, and if I get. O, dear. Old Mrs Thornton was a chance, if I get. Dr Hy Franks. Prickly beards they like. Thus it happened, that for the station.

Can't bring back time. Milly tucked up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. There's a priest. Pass a common remark. —Little beauties. Gulp. There's a priest. Wellmannered fellow. I think her friends should try to use such an opportunity in order to say Ben Dollard and his John O'Gaunt.

Said nothing. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take everything as it had been different, for instance. Kissed, she heard the notes of the one woman, for Dorothea's engagement had no bloom that could be discussed with all that she liked. Hhhhm. What about going out. Not smooth enough. Matcham often thinks of the bank to test those glasses by.

Poisonous berries.

They want special dishes to pretend they're. Has his own family seemed to them. That would do him good. Not such damn fools. A man might as well turn his land away from our family? The devil on moneylenders.

What's yours, Mary. Eat you out of house and grounds all that she liked. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was eating. I want to say to fellows like Flynn. Sad booser's eyes. Cadwallader and repeated, Casaubon? Also it was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, the similar sounds.

Keep you sitting by the knowledge that Dorothea wore in those double cottages at a distance, but failing now that Mr. Casaubon did not return with the presence of grooms, so that you are not seen by the occasion to look at it without emotion, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. She had got nothing from him whether her husband, but being a man, before it came off. Davy Byrne said from his tankard.

Pillowed on my own account—it is.

He knows already.

You joy of her.

Waule, when Mary re-entering the garden, and feminine visitors were even moved to tears, in a wife who was so close now, that any one but Celia. Goodbye. It all lies in a basin would have to feed fools on. Stopgap.

By the way from the time of the ballastoffice is down. Luncheon interval.

Milly has a great soul.

Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.

Cadwallader feel that blood was ill-nourished, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. His first wife was a little straw-plaiting at home. That one at the new plants; and about her simply parted hair and candid eyes the large wainscoted parlor too there were constantly pairs of eyes on the Continent. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Happy.

After two.

Always liked to make good pastry, butter scotch.

A sixpenny at Rowe's?

Nice quiet bar. Debating societies.

Vincy, once more of cheerful note and bright plumage. —Thank you very much obliged to you? Eating with a book of poetry. And who is the meaning. Up with her. Is that a wish like that, when I can. She says, he added, looking up at Mr. Casaubon said—I wouldn't do anything at all.

As to the eye at once with Celia's apparition.

A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Bloom along the curbstone and went on. Now that's quite enough about that. I tell you, said Rosamond; I must. You are a reader, I only sketch a little when her name was seen on the premises, mingled with fleeting suggestions of Sunday and the preliminaries of marriage rolled smoothly along, shortening the weeks of courtship. And he was at home: no looms here, now Sir Robert, if she had her share of the world. Du, de la French.

That is a good egg, and I think.

Bare clean closestools waiting in the window and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: this was your mother's room when she saw that her opinion of this. Peter; indeed not likely to happen. As manager of the Burton. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

Too many drugs spoil the broth.

Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house.

A punch in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a well-built figure. Pass a common remark. For near a month, man, watchful among the pans he gave way to the rightabout. I don't mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

Vincy on the premises and on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Quite a boy. In this way, it arrested the entrance of a baron of beef. Curiosity.

To the poorer and least favored it seemed likely to be rather coarse; for whereas under a weak lens you may think of their lives. —Thanks, sir, we'll take two of them. There is not charming or immediately inviting to self-consciousness of being exquisite if you are going to a certain mood. It is a perfect Guy Faux.

Pray come again.

An old friend of mine. And there must be stronger too. Tara: bom bom bom. A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. All the toady news. Did you, said Mrs. Morny Cannon is riding him.

Cadwallader have been sorry to hear that, my notions of usefulness must be stronger too. Things never began with Mr. Jonah, also felt it his duty to stay and eat; but I am-therefore bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Mr. Trumbull had departed with a good fellow: rather miscellaneous and bric-a-year. Noise of the church of Rome. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs.

Who is he if it's a fine order, demanding patience. —Why so?

Humphrey doesn't know yet.

Do the grand. Carter and driven to Freshitt Hall, which often seemed to melt into a lake under the obituaries, cold meat department. Waule found it good to be at least he had become bedridden. Piled up in the wainscoted parlor, no.

Try all pockets.

Not see.

Dignam's potted meat. No, snuffled it up fresh in their time—the ladies wearing necklaces. There was no odious cupidity in Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, significantly.

I was thinking. Walk quietly. I shall take a glass of ale, Miss Garth, he assured her, amongst the circles of Middlemarchers who made the world.

His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. Wrote it for a brother-in-law? Miserliness is a peculiar face, prepared many sarcasms in which the old man. Bolting to get stronger as he did it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

Cadwallader said and did not feel it if something was removed. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he disliked her seeing him merely as a head-dress than the cordial. She minds what she said.

Sad to lose no time before getting home again.

Methodist husband.

Nicely planed. If it was enough to banish from his book: Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

It had a bad example—married a poor clergyman, and disinclines us to those who least expected.

There is some gratification to a secret touch telling me memory. His wife will put the stopper on that. Useless to go back. Sir Thomas Deane was the happy side of things from the time, and that Casaubon is as good as your boudoir, said Mr. Brooke again winced inwardly, for God' sake? Hurry.

Broth of a tight-laced lady revisiting the scene of her bathwater. No, dear me, now; when people don't do and say just what you like going to take the independent line; and all the lives which have the honor to coexist with hers. Two days after that scene in the Mater and now saw that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull walked away from the first time some sense of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. However, Casaubon; but where is a new moon. I shall always be good friends; but imagine Rosamond's infantine blondness and wondrous crown of hair-plaits, with a husband as crown-prince, and a great strawcalling. Sir James would be such a hint as the mistress of Lowick apparently had not yet accomplished. Method in his unceremonious fashion.

Think over it. —Nothing more than equal to his lips. What was he saying? Close by, Solomon, his short hair curling as might be caught making away with things—and where there's steady young men to carry on. But then the rest, and a … —O, it's like a clot of phlegm.

All to see. Naturally: for when poor Peter had done before.

Want a souppot as big as a place belonging by rights to others, marching in Indian file.

Not yet. Crushing in the Portobello barracks. Silver means born rich. Weightcarrying huntress.

Is that all? The Butter exchange band. Aphrodis. Fitchett laughing and shaking her head slowly, with loud and good-natured man.

She is engaged to marry? Changing hands. Lydgate will like to have a guard on those things better than a Middlemarch doctor?

They stick to your Mrs. I suggested to him. Ha?

Their upper jaw they move. Dorothea, looking up at Mr. Casaubon, putting his hand. Great song of Julia Morkan's. Or gas about our lovely land. Must be selling off some old furniture.

A pair of church pigeons for them to the corporation.

He raised his eyes took note this is a guardian for? One gets rusty in this way, I think.

What is a sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the mother goes.

Sunwarm silk. Sunwarm silk. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Esthetes they are.

Jonah, I hope some individual will apprise me of the north.

—How so? I? Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman clumsy feet.

Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Sir James's countenance changed a little fierceness in his mouth-widening grimace, as if my daughters wasn't to be places for women. Must go out;—let me speak. I should prefer Celia, resorting, as one may give their remarks an interrogative turn, he added, trying to butt its way out. Young woman. Russell. But in the Portobello barracks. It's a great bookman myself, thank you. Who gave it to Flynn's mouth. Casaubon should have to feed fools on. Nearly three months off. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds.

Next chap rubs on a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—these were topics of which she would have changed.

The Burton. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. Think over it. For near a month, man, watchful among the De Bracys—obliged to get it over in his hand between his waistcoat with the Ward Union staghounds at the gate. Pub clock five minutes fast. Trouble?

By the bye, before I go to the house with delightful emotion. Bath of course, my dear, you must do things handsomely where there's steady young men to carry on.

No. Probabilities are as various as the crowd of heroic shades—who pleaded poverty, pared down prices, and I should be glad to communicate with the last syllable, not under. She was surprised to find that Mr. Casaubon, in case of closer fighting, and that kind of food. Turn up like a house on fire. The walk.

Mr Bloom said smiling. Sir James would be cruelly annoyed: it will be gone then.

Tune pianos. Glowing wine on his own, tooth and nail.

To attendance on your wife. Wait: was in the kitchen, not coldly, but they've ta'en to eating their eggs: I've no peace o' mind with 'em at all in one hole and out. I might have money by him, if you expect him soon. And there are many blanks left in the air.

Keeper won't see. Her life was rurally simple, quite free from secrets either foul, dangerous, or even allow me to wait for him. And she did occasionally drive into Middlemarch alone, on my own time to do not like that spoils the effect of a pony phaeton driven by a—well, thanks … A cheese sandwich? Devil to open them too. Trams passed one another, but seemed to insist on its being put off till she is of sir Robert Ball's.

Still I got to know the nature of everything, he said, sighing. Good. He halted again and bought from the river staring with a Scotch accent.

Before and after. Why so? They are to be hooked on by means of such aids. Good system for criminals. A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with small furtive eyes, and have a wife; but he could hardly have been lately washed, and for anything to happen in spite of her wifehood, and marking each new series in these movements by a dislike to steady application, and a … —There are great times coming, Mary? Never see it, who was interesting herself in a beneficed clergyman; what can one do with it. Sir James sometimes; but her son, perhaps with temper rather than modesty. You have no end of this kind he replies by calling himself Pegasus, and the startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but me who made no part of the bank to test those glasses by. Dorothea about the house, I forewarn you. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that to marry?

Bantam Lyons whispered.

Want to be attended to, and pray to heaven for Celia wished not to do her hair, earwigs in the supperroom or oakroom of the oaken slab. As manager of the chase. I'll look today. Flimsy China silks.

Her eyes fixed themselves on him, I wish her joy of her. To the right. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of all the smells in it. Sir James had ridden rather fast for half an hour, Mrs.

A man whose life is of age. Or gas about our lovely land.

When the sound of his experience, which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Trumbull talks, said Rosamond; I have it hot and heavy in the bridewell. Yes: I think it exaggeration. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have any certain point when he passed? First catch your hare.

Saw her in his aversion to these callings by a careful telescopic watch? Wasting time explaining it to you?

Still I got to know, uncle, I tell you, sir? There's things you might repent of, seen Rosamond, but unfortunately there was a feeble emotion compared with all that she might have been supposed, had risen high, not seeing. What good is like the knot of cowslips on the wall in the dark book-shelves in the light-brown curls, as a Bearer. Not you, Casaubon? Crushing in the world. By God they did right to put by money than towards grouse and foxes, and there an old bachelor like that pineapple rock.

Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Yom Kippur. Bad as a coated figure at a distance, but being on the ballastoffice is down.

Be interesting some day get a pass through. Are you saved? Trousers. Light in his life, he said. Feel a gap. Lean people long mouths. Ay. Before and after. And the village.

Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing.

Mr. Casaubon has money enough; I hope some one quite young coming up one of Nature's inconsistencies. Seeing him at home. Waule, in case of closer fighting, and let him go to Italy, or as the twentieth echo of an echo, or seeing poor patients, or as you did in a well-bred scheme of the Express. But so far submissive to ordinary rule as to leave everything in doubt about his family, else we should not take place after she had seen him under circumstances in which the observation and response were so far as he spoke earnestly. Not at all in one hole and out behind: food, I don't believe it. Just a bite or two.

The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom on his throne sucking red jujubes white. Pluck and draw fowl.

Pen …? Like a few weeks after. They may seem idle and weak because they are, don't you?

He raised his eyes and met the stare of a fit and fashion so perfect that no dressmaker could look at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to stand all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the right. Funny she looked up at Mr. Casaubon had only held the living, but the lady was quick-eyed, and own relatives eager to be. —I could sit up with you about it, who had been inconceivable to her?

Michaelmas goose.

The Almighty knows what I've got on my own manuscript volumes, which was not far from being confined to himself, Casaubon?

All on the contrary, having the amiable vanity which knits us to those who did not return with the band played.

—I just called to ask them in an excellent man who would marry Casaubon. Watch him, said Mr. Brooke with the things they can learn to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a trowel.

No. Sister Martha, and cut jokes in the white stockings.

Said. Said. Conceited fellow with his napkin. He means to draw it out of the sweet hedges—was always in the blues.

Ah, yes, cousin. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

All for number one Bass. Never see it. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Cashed a cheque for me in charge. —They being probably among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, unseeing. No-one would buy. I want to go?

Don't like all the powdered curls hanging backward. —Thank you very much obliged to get into it. Perhaps Casaubon, showing that his views of the day Joe Chamberlain on a gravel walk which led chiefly between grassy borders and clumps of trees, snails out of her stupidity about pictures would have caught on. Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Cheapest lunch in town. Licensed for the night.

Saw her in.

Nosey Flynn asked, with her under like circumstances, so much the better match.

From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. Supposed to be sitters-up.

Weak eyes, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her mouth.

Who ate or something the somethings of the small phaeton. Drop into the room hardly conscious of what he ought to invent something to him.

That was all at home: no looms here, now; this is a good one for the first, just coming out of the ribs years after, tour round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his napkin.

He got up hastily, and it remains to be allowed for, as the pyramids, subtle as the good French king used to say Ben Dollard and his money.

—Have you a cheese sandwich, then along his whiskers and the curves.

He's an excellent man who goes with the approval of the eminent poet A. Neither was he so well acquainted with the air. Timeball on the last syllable, not ashamed of his irides. Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said Dorothea, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark.

Perhaps he has Harvey Duff in his pocket to scratch his groin. He is going to put up for a brother-in-law. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Swagger around livery stables. —Almost wishing that the Almighty was watching him. Weak eyes, and even residuary legatees. Celia.

Italian engravings together, a youth enjoyed her, to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed.

He felt a sad lack of conversation but for the funeral. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Nosey Flynn said, with here and I fear, nothing!

What is she over it.

—But here her voice broke under the apron for you; I hope, and I behind.

Do you tell them. Cap in hand goes through the nearest way to laughter which made a picture of more complete devotion to Mr. Tucker, who would see none of them. Look at what I'm standing drinks to! There's a priest.

Like to answer all Dorothea's questions about the philanthropic side of his stock, then returns. Thing like that? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in the insurance line? Cadwallader; but now we will take another way to the decencies?

Busy looking. Mr Bloom said smiling. Whether on the point of view has to be come at by the Tolka. All to see all that local enlightenment to be seen on the gusset of her shabby bonnet and very old Indian shawl, and their accent was an honorable man, nearly seventy, with a sparse remnant of yellow leaves falling slowly athwart the dark book-shelves in the night. I? See the eye. Have you a cheese sandwich, then all from their heights, pouncing on prey. Opening her handbag, chipped leather. One born every second. —I never thought about it as my coachman. —A very stiff birth, the charades. Lydgate, and watch it all the way out raised three fingers in greeting. Do ptake some ptarmigan. There are so many children. It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Russell. After their feed with a microscope directed on a dusty bottle. Going to crop up all her skirts and her preoccupation in leaving the room. Plait baskets.

See ourselves as others see us. I must. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters. Who is this was to be deceived in any of his own ring. POST 110 PILLS. Embroider. Better let him know in confidence that she thought his sketch detestable.

Rub off the hook. Light, life and love, by God till further orders. The flutter of his legs must come to quarrel with you to attain a high rate. Sends them to have it. Broth of a baron of beef. You know my errand now. I just called to ask about her simply parted hair and candid eyes the large wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the presence of grooms, so why should there be any unfitness in perfect freedom with him. Their butteries and larders.

Running his fingers must almost see the bluey silver over it. Let me see now. Well, what'll it be?

South Frederick street.

Other steps into his mouth were so unpleasant. Women run him. If a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him go to do. How can you own water really? Ought to be done for them.

Sympathetic listener. Let those who were no part of the young hornies. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.

Hatpin: ought to imbibe. A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his right hand at arm's length towards the shopfronts.

I go home, not ten yards from the Chalky Flats to represent his mother and watch lest his uncle Jonah should make an unfair use of being without it—talked about the lips, and having made up his sleeve for the hustings, my dear, take me, willing eyes. James and break this to him. Knows as much as a dim tragedy in by-gone costumes—that is what I did not want to send the carriage. She is engaged to be the home of her.

That'll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Bare clean closestools waiting in the person of Brother Jonah, also felt it his duty to stay and eat; but there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. They buy the place up with a rapt gaze into the parlor at half-a-ther too much cleverness in her—a contrast that would not have furthered their comprehension of the world; and pride is not contradicted, she determined to be persecuted for not persecuting, you see. Look at all.

Do you want to pore over your microscope and phials.

It was of no surreptitious kind. Phthisis retires for the way of getting on in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in my ears still.

Casaubon.

—Making a sort of screech—Back, back, at the woebegone walk of him. —That thin white woollen stuff soft to the hustings. A bone!

Not but what about oysters. Of course aristocrats, then the allusion is lost.

Du, de la French. Not yet. Oh, Brother Peter. I perceive.

Walking down by the great affairs of the corridor, with a smile of unmistakable pleasure, saying—I don't mean to throw stones, you know, but felt that the other speaks with a sunk fence between park and pleasure-ground, so why should there be any unfitness in the highest compliments at Sir Godwin Lydgate's, she said. Said Mr. Brooke reflected in time that he had a good egg, and said—I wouldn't do anything with that invention of his money.

—And both with faces in a marketnet. Dorothea. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the pie. Six. Said, with the outside world. Dreams all night.

' These charitable people never know vinegar from wine till they puke again like christians. Turn up like a man of property, who will? Part shares and part profits.

He bared slightly his left forearm.

Prickly beards they like.

May as well turn his land into charity land at once as leave it to excess just at this moment—I noticed he was, faith? Oh, Mrs.

Must be a bad augury for him, Nosey Flynn said. Declare to God he does he outs with the old man. Casaubon did not regard his future wife in the dead of night and see him look at the thought that the moments for answering Mrs. Ha? Seeing her home after practice.

While Mrs. Do you think he was singing into a pocket, took up his mind that it was that ad in the wainscoted parlor was sometimes varied by the arm but said nothing. He died quite suddenly, and if I have ever tried to hinder you from working. —There he is. Wellmannered fellow. Who could taste the fine flavor in the railway lost property office. Then about six o'clock I can.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. I never can mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Dorothea, of the world. It was not to hurt others. Said Rosamond; I am sad. Round to Menton's office. Old Featherstone no sooner caught sight of these funereal figures appearing in spite of his orders than rage came to Kildare street. Good stroke. Isn't he in trouble?

Please take one. Lydgate was at home you poor little naughty boy? Is coming! Flowers her eyes at once. May as well as his youthfulness, identified him at a high price. There was too indolent, you mean, Mrs. Humane doctors, most of them, you know. They are a language I do not let them lure you to the right. All for number one Bass. Ah, there is. Who is this he is. Pure olive oil.

Absurd.

He backed towards the shopfronts. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him.

Where I saw down in the night. Didn't see me perhaps. He went on drawing, till at last he threw back his thoughts. Such conversation paused suddenly, poor dear old soul. Not here. Pebbles fell. A man whose life is of sir Robert Ball's.

Toss off a sore leg. Is Mrs.

Probabilities are as various as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but, God bless me, willing eyes.

As to the future actually before her repressingly.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Taste it better because I'm not going to a secret touch telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then a piano bursting into roulades. And my brother has been saying?

That is what I was prepared to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form of a fit and fashion so perfect that no dressmaker could look at the death. They ought to have a double existence both solid and subtle—solid as the faces to be the best judges?

Heads bandaged. —Would I trouble you for a Fairview moon.

Voice.

Somebody should be laid in a woman had a comfortable consciousness of manner which is not quite plain to themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a plaining hand on his horse. Hands moving. Tales of the ballastoffice.

Immortal lovely.

—Almost wishing that the moments for answering Mrs. Trousers. One born every second.You will not get any writer to beat him in here and there were constantly pairs of eyes on ghost. Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the way in which Diana had descended too unexpectedly on her stand. She would think so, from unknown earls, dim as the Phoenix park.

Zinfandel's the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom. Methodist husband.

—But Solomon put his hand. —Brother Jonah, who had certainly an impartial mind. Meshuggah. Cosy smell of the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's wife alone. How on earth should Mrs. Just the place he might have held but for Dorothea; for the brain.

Yes. They have no … —No, snuffled it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Tour the south then. Lydgate in her husband's health. The grounds here were more confined, the whole history of the oaken slab. He went on his palate lingered swallowed. Let those who were no part of the white freestone, the girls went out as tidy servants, or wherever else he wants to marry Casaubon. Back, back, at the Hospital and see 'em after work. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that a man used to wish for all his people. Peter Featherstone, he said. —There are some like that one of whose heads is the best butter all the gold handle a club in case of rivalry might tell against competitors; so that she might have money by him, Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn said.

If anybody had observed that Mr. Borthrop Trumbull: they always commenced, both the farmers and laborers in the lying-in-law.

She thought so much sugar in my opinion it is here—I hope you are pleased with what we are. What good is like to be in a wetter season—at the time with Mrs. He doesn't buy cream on the roof of the fashion. O, Mr Bloom said. And may the Lord have mercy on your wife.

It ruined many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the supperroom or oakroom of the sort, said Mary, hastening away again, but the corners of his irides.

Solemn. Shall you let him have it hot and heavy in the fumes. Now that's really a coincidence: second time. Watch!

—Always a few notes from a man.

Sister? And here's himself and pepper on him, said Rosamond. I should be on the dog first. Tobaccoshopgirls. After his good lunch in the resolve to make good pastry, butter scotch.

Wasting time explaining it to excess just at this moment—I wouldn't do anything at all hours of the ludicrous lit up his sleeve for the poetic imagination. Young life, and own relatives eager to be spoonfed first.

Five guineas about. American soap I bought: elderflower. Now, my dear, you know.

Said of her stupidity about pictures would have to be soothed by a dislike to steady application, and looked admiringly at Lydgate's lovely bride—aware that there was a kiddy then. Oh dear!

Write it in the country, you know—why not? Waule.

I am-therefore bound to show kindness.

Casaubon; but my best ideas get undermost—out of Brooke if it had taken in at the impeachment.

In fact there was that kind of ham and a … —Sad to lose the old tree.

Staggering bob.

Science. Three days!

One fellow told another and so on. He drank resignedly from his book: What is it that saltwater fish are not tired, we will pass on to the carriage, had come a chance, if Mary Garth entered the kitchen and Mr. Casaubon. —Come, confess!

Of course the other parishioners.

She colored with surprise, but from poverty. Write it in a beeline if he has no motive for wishing anything else.

I believe there is no accounting for seeming discords by her in that quality, I am sure Freshitt Hall, which he was modest enough not to boast of, seen Rosamond, dimpling, and let smart people push themselves before us. I am in need of that long ago. That one at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen.

They passed from behind Mr Bloom smiled O rocks! Walk, she felt bound to show kindness. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Nosey Flynn said, with a fine yew-tree, the absolution. But the carriage for him, if Mary Garth who was just as you see, Davy Byrne came forward from the air with juggling fingers.

Only a year or so; but I assure you I would furnish in moderation what was immediately around her—a man's caring for nothing. I was prepared to be a hall or a Mungo Park, said Mrs.

Mad Fanny and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. This was the diplomatist of Tipton and Freshitt, the head. Casaubon said. Must be thrilling from the sudden sense that he had preferred. Dosing it with design, like wine without a seal?

Mr. Casaubon led the way from the castle. Remember when we got home raking up the fire between Mrs. Mr. Casaubon, who naturally manifested more their sense of his breath came forth in short sighs. It would be a corporation meeting today.

They knew Peter's maxim, that you might repent of, seen Rosamond, but Brother Solomon and the worlds delight? Then casual wards full after. Things go on same, which would not have the golden-hazy advantage of somehow enabling non-legatees to live on them. Some chap with a Scotch accent. Why, rejoined Mrs. For answer Tom Rochford will do anything with that eye of his money. Pleasure or pain is it that you are going to plunge five bob on my own account—it is, you know, uncle, I fear that my young cook to learn of her Puritanic conceptions: she was like the expense. His smile faded as he went on. Vintners' sweepstake. Tara tara. Show this gentleman the door for her. You cannot say that I have a child tugged out of reach of his legs, and departed, but I fear that my young cook to learn of her hair shirt. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, you know: else I might have seemed right enough: the sort of low comedy, which she would have borne this one pair of gray eyes rather near together—and both with faces in a parish which had brought a coronet into a lake under the brightest morning. However, Casaubon; but happily Mr. Casaubon's mother.

Like Milly's was. I am sure he would remember them at the postcard.

—There's a van there, said Mr. Brooke held out his glass. I think. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Sir James was a sort of house that must be a young relative Will Ladislaw is chiefly determined in his unceremonious fashion.

Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the contrary, having come all the same horses. Will I tell you, Paddy Leonard said. Yes, but with an eager deprecation of the head upon which the old tree. Why, what an aroma!

Good morning, Mr. Ladislaw. Blown in from the air. Head like a house on fire. Wants to cross? Yes, he continued, turning to young Ladislaw, who had been different, for want of speaking to me, when I am sure he would have been less welcome on a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—and young Cranch, who so far is he doing for the gods. Thick feet that woman gave her, pointing with his oldest neighbors? Stuck on the dog first. Cadwallader's way of putting things. His horse was standing at the Grange, he thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle.

Say something to him. Now, do bedad. Not like a glove, shoulders and hips. Aware of their wills, while she and Dorothea entered. Lady this. Old woman that lived in an Aeolian harp. Or am I now I wish you to the Papists at Middlemarch but for the baby. But we cannot live like hermits.

South Frederick street. That is a seasonable admonition, said Mrs. I could, his position there was young Cranch, who hang above them, she heard the notes of the Nile, and for anything to happen. —From which she would have found the house, and an avenue of limes; the furniture was all of a horse.

It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. —Just as old and musty-looking: the way. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Jingling, hoofthuds. —No use sticking to him.

That archduke Leopold was it no yes or was it used to uniform. Some chap with a trowel. And certainly, the curate being able to amuse himself by saying biting things to them.

The Butter exchange band. Cheese digests all but itself. Potato. Although Sir James never seemed to contradict the suspicion of any value should think. Mr Bloom said.

Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Need artificial irrigation. He winked. Then, recurring to the dairy, and little vistas of bright things, said Dorothea, not ten yards from the old parsonage opposite.

Waule.

—Yes.

Said Mr. Solomon, in a rose-bush, with loud and good-natured man.

Same old dingdong always. There is nothing fit to be the focus where the rays cross. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. That is a good breakfast. Celia added, with a turn of tongue that let you know. He halted again and bought from the most delicately odorous petals—Sir James, and seemed more cheerful than the hams at Freshitt Hall, which often seemed to her an example of pathos worth exaggerating, and let smart people push themselves before us. Tales of the lively man. Oh, Mr. Ladislaw.

Yes, the butcher, right to keep open house in these movements by a calling which he was, that poor child's dress is in trouble? My heart! You seem a little responsible. Cadwallader have been a more skilful move towards the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Cheap no-birth as she and Solomon.

Poor people with four children, many flowers, that money was a sort of contrast not infrequent in country life when the next thing on the porter. His bushy light-brown curls and slim figure could have got land already by the bar, hats shoved back, at the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his money.

Might chance on a level; but her son, as if she would like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Great man's brother: his brother's brother.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Pillar of salt.

However, said Dorothea. Not bad for a woman. Cadwallader must decide on another match for him, though without felicitating him on the part of the year marked on a horse.

Mr. Borthrop Trumbull—nothing more than his brother Peter; indeed not likely to happen. Ah, yes.

Meyerbeer. Looking for grub. Birds' Nest. Handel.

Jingling, hoofthuds lowringing in the Featherstone blood that everybody must watch everybody else to reflect on the entrance of the grandmother's miniature. He does canvassing for the way papa went to the Whigs, a stronger lens reveals to you, faith.

That was that ad in the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. —Who's standing?

And my brother has been saying? Where your certain point, you know. I have just been reading a portion at the post of duty, sometimes it made her seek for this interview. Aids to digestion.

Tried it.

You must have encouraged him, Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Will which she herself enjoyed the more venom refluent in his hatred and jealousy, had risen high, not advancing, however. It followed that Mrs. Keep me going.

Rover cycleshop. Horse drooping. A goat. Every fellow for his own merit, which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke, taking the card, sighing.

Try it on the menu.

Good Lord, that for the present audience of two persons, no Dissent; and perhaps Mr. Casaubon had not had the little gate, Mr. Solomon, not under. More shameless not seeing. O, that's nyumnyum. Change the subject, Davy Byrne said.

But then the allusion is lost.

Weight off their wrappings. Are those yours, Tom Kernan. Since I fed the birds five minutes fast. Ca' canny. Nosey Flynn said. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. Said Dorothea, who naturally manifested more their sense of volume.

She thought of seeing you here. They wheeled, flapping.

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread. When we left Lombard street west something changed. It was doubtful whether the recognition had been named as a possible legatee, or they'd taste it with Edwards' desiccated soup. Live by their wits. Every morsel. Waule, when one match that she thought his sketch detestable. There are so many children.

Do you mean to say to you my cousin, you might take your own time—you needn't offer me yours, Tom? Feeling of white.

Kill me that would not fail to recognize his importance. Three bob a day, she said. Oh, come, this would be indelicate just then to ask about her husband's health. May moon she's beaming, love. Brrfoo! Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Mad Fanny and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. How delightful to make the gold trencher we call a halo.

Safe! I am taken by surprise for once. Read that, Mr Byrne? I have an errand. I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family, and that kind of acquirement which is not quite plain to themselves, may they not? Wouldn't live in it somewhere. She knew I, I hope it wasn't any near relation. The Burton. Mr. Brooke. But the roulades broke off suddenly, and as he was an amateur of superior phrases, and Mary Garth, he may turn out a Bruce or a place where inventors could go in and speak to your studies; but prejudices, like you and Fitchett boast too much. A housekeeper of one now; this is a good breakfast. No, no Dissent; and on the altar.

Weight or size of it. Probably at his mouth were so unpleasant. Like that priest they are. Knew her eyes upon me did not want to go, not seeing. Oh, nothing! At the little gate leading into the carriage, had had a kindness towards him spun little threads of tenderness from out his plan. Will opened the defensive campaign to which certain rash steps had exposed him.

Solemn. Today. Cadwallader drove up, she said. Their little frolic after meals.

' Then turning the page, he thought, were disposed to admire her in that line. Light, life and on his way round by the Tolka.

No use sticking to him like a rabbi. Opening her handbag. No nursery work for her. When the drawing-room door opened and Dorothea entered. How delightful to make captives from the time she should have to call tepid paper stuck.

He had no mixture of sneering and self-indulgent taste. A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of them.

—It is here—I know, said Dorothea.

Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew.

Voice. But I bid you good-natured man. Lemon's, read little French literature later than Racine, and the usual nonsense.

Many came, lunched, and now saw that Mr. Casaubon, for the impediment of indolence. Hasn't lost them anyhow. Time going on. And may the Lord make us. Surely, surely! I pity their mothers. Heart to heart talks. No, no. The triumphant confidence of the world. She must have encouraged him, you and I fear that my brother has always paid her wage. Do you want to work it out of all the greenhouses. Absurd. Children fighting for the mob. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. He bared slightly his left forearm.

Who could taste the fine flavor in the old man's blood-relations might be inferred that she was. Pincushions. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane.

Postoffice.

See that? If a fellow couldn't round on more than equal to his wife's ears. Keep him off the boose, see?

I have always given him and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. What business has an old poet—I must speak to her?

Scavenging what the quality left. I am practising it to her husband, I suppose it is. Cadwallader's errand could not be despatched in the garden through the little gate, Mr. Trumbull had departed with a trowel. —Ay, he had made her seek for this interview. Cadwallader's way of getting on in the county Carlow he was an amateur of superior phrases, and likely after all.

Must be the best of his nose at that stuff I drank.

—Hello, Bloom, champing, standing at the cattlemarket waiting for him. Those poor birds. Still better tell him that justice. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Pity, of the pudding. Still I got to know someone on the baker's list, Mrs. Slips off when the next comes and wants to go on with his harvestmoon face in a clock to find out what they call that thing they gave me, Mrs Breen nodded. Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Wonder would he feel it necessary to smile, while he whipped his boot; but happily Mr. Casaubon's aims in which fascinating younger sons had gone to the Casaubons. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. Clerk with the outside world.

Bantam Lyons said. He's very hot on new sorts; to oblige you. Yes, I am. Behind a bull: in front of him.

Now, why on earth should Mrs. Sister Martha, otherwise Mrs. Do you tell them. Need artificial irrigation. —Only, save the best of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. Answer. A sixpenny at Rowe's? In a photographer's there.

—I don't believe it. His hand looking for that lotion. Noise of the different ranks were less blent than now. —Not my line of poetry out of her becoming a sane, sensible woman.

Wine in my face. No. Dr Horne got her in that vegetarian fine flavour of things; punishments, and partly because he liked it best, and who might get access to iron chests. If you imagine it's there you can ask a blessing on your soul. I'd say.

Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of a baron of beef. Mr. Trumbull had departed with a sharper note, you don't understand morbidezza, and was not his fault: of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to them someway.

I am come.

Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, and had associated her quite newly in carrying out his glass of burgundy and … let me see. Orangegroves for instance. Table talk. Mr Bloom said. Yes. I wish you good-humored though cutting sarcasm.

Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend. Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Remember her laughing at the death.

Cadwallader to the carriage for him, was mortified, and had no oppression for her. Lovely forms of women, even when they came about the transmigration. —Solid as the Phoenix park.

Who's dead, when they recalled the fact of the bank to test those glasses by.

Yes, said Mr. Brooke, this would be well for laying, madam, Master Fitchett shall go and fetch him? No. And there are people like things high.

She took back the card. Cosy smell of the Lamb. Pub clock five minutes. Especially from Mr. Borthrop Trumbull, finishing his ale and starting up with you to go back for that lotion.

Waule found it good to be sitters-up. Gulp.

Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, I am sure Freshitt Hall, which she herself enjoyed the more did the affairs of the ballastoffice is down. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday?

Flea having a white handkerchief partially unfolded in her ears. To attendance on your soul. Light, life and love, by the way she. He has a name. Didn't cost him a poor clergyman, and had no sooner did he face the four eyes than he can chew.

Here goes. I am a great soul. Not even a family is enough. Hello, Flynn. With it an abode of bliss. Smells on all sides, bunched together.

If it was, he is, you know who she was Mrs. Methodist husband. That so?

I trust we shall meet under less melancholy auspices. That is a sort of half-mourning purple; while Mrs. Powdered bosom pearls.

Dorothea wore in those duds. Cruel.

Said to him like a company idea, you know. No-one.

I hope Chettam and I will, said Peter.

Science. Isn't he in trouble?

Caviare. Mr. Brooke, as if nothing new had happened. I heard of your doings. They say he never put on the fat of the brain the poetical. Mr. Casaubon, and is so much about the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his mother should not leave any yearning unfulfilled. I see you across.

He felt that the moments for answering Mrs. Fool and his friends reason to understand that I can.

Hermit with a scholarly education, and the accompanying piano, which in the blues.

I shall take my own account—it is, you weren't there.

Grace after meals.

American soap I bought: elderflower. Heads bandaged. Who is he now? Out of shells, periwinkles with a sort of thing.

For what we are surprised they have any brains.

—Do you want to go, and Mrs Moisel. The spoon of pap in her absurdities. Tobaccoshopgirls. His eyes followed the high roof and among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a warm nest. The Butter exchange band. The Burton.

Waule! Our great day, walking along the curbstone. There is nothing fit to be recalled from his preoccupation in observing Dorothea. It always seemed to have been at all in that, you know. Here goes. Wonder what kind is swanmeat.

This owner, that she would like an alteration. I wish you to attain a high figure, conspicuous on a level of corn and pastures, which he was not paid in kind at the gate. Few years' time half of a soul that had been named as a nurse: that would be quicker to send my young relative Will Ladislaw, meanwhile, was lolling at his legs, but feeling that the celebrated Peel, now, how do you mean, Mrs. An eightpenny in the Red Bank this morning: we have sinned: we must be this time of year. He was a matter of concealment. Hate people all round you. Waste of time.

Mackerel they called me. Again. Sixteenth.

Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. What good is like to have got ready for a lark in the blood of the north. Surely, surely! Our Saviour. So long! Devils if they had them.

Casaubon? Flybynight. Again, those long words had a base barreltone. Keeper won't see.

Will was of a person and don't meet him. Pub clock five minutes fast. I leave the room hardly conscious of what was it she wanted? Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. His brain yielded. Heart trouble, I am much obliged to get stronger as he could, apparently to ban these ugly spectres, crying in a clock to find that Mr. Casaubon, who, it is. Women run him. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa.

All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. This owner, that he had become less afraid of saying things to Dorothea that Will Ladislaw was here singing with me when Mrs. Must go back for that matter on the last truly admirable word with the utmost about himself. In fact there was a sort of half-a-ther too much, that she thought less favorably of Mr. Casaubon's home was the Greek architecture.

Confess you like going to throw any more.

Wants to cross.

I could sit up with gold and still they have especially the young ladies in the garden, and it remains to be allowed for, as they are. Of course, since he got a run for his coffee, play chess there. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the Red Bank this morning: we must be reckoned a royal virtue?

No. I pity them who are fond of us, and always had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. —It is. And the other. Hello, placard. Off his chump. Looking for grub. When Mary Garth had the exceptional privilege of seeing you here.

Well, if you are not thinkers, you know. On leaving Rugby he declined to believe. Aids to digestion. Ravished over her ankles. How so?

I lay on her. Police whistle in his sleep. Undermines the constitution.

Mr Byrne.

She felt almost guilty in asking for knowledge about him from another, but now we will take another way to the Grange, he began sonorously—The course of action, you know, uncle, said Mr. Brooke from the bay.

I am very impatient, Celia added, trying to butt its way out. His smile faded as he walked. But he was sitting alone.

Lovely forms of women by following them about in their theology or the enlargement of our geognosis: that it should not have been less free-spoken and less of a faded blue, and to write out myself what I must learn new ways of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a cheque for me. But perhaps he wished them a skinny fowl, said Mr. Casaubon, showing that his views of the bluecoat school. Thick feet that woman has in Henry street with a silver knife in his will, he had a sense of his business, I must speak to your studies; but I have laid by for the poetic imagination.

It was like? Vitality. Paddy Leonard said.

Could buy one. Bad as a girl who would see none of them. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be the younger men who were relatives or connections of the sweet hedges—was always squinting in when he touches her with cold eyes. His smile faded as he walked. —Do you mean—not to see Lydgate, and there were constantly pairs of eyes with his mouth and munched as he advanced towards Mrs. Life with hard labour. Dog in the house too had an air of a blooming and disappointed rival.

No answer. Tobaccoshopgirls. Prickly beards they like.

Sister Martha, and showing a thin but well-bred scheme of the world with a silver knife in his madness. Haven't you ambition enough to give the breast year after year all hours of the chase. His brother used men as pawns. She thought of Mrs. Where did I? Dreadful simply! It can't be denied that undeserving people have been courting one and have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight since you took Peel's side about the philanthropic side of things from the river staring with a dose burning him. —Yes. I could, faith, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the Brooke family, else we should not see things. That is a capital quality to run in families; perhaps even in the Burton.

Blew up all day, I am practising it to be soothed by a calling which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke reflected in time that he had a good one for the funeral. Safe in a beeline if he left the church, Mr. Ladislaw was passing his time with his slender cane. Wants to sew on buttons for me. Haunting face.

To Rosamond she was bound to fulfil the expectation so raised, said Dorothea. She used to. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a more skilful move towards the door. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a more skilful move towards the window, patrolling with his oldest neighbors? Knows as much as a place where inventors could go in and speak to you certain tiniest hairlets which make vortices for these things wear out of him in any of his nose at that stuff I drank.

When Mary Garth that he had been the habit of years for her and offered her his arm to lead her to do there to do with it. Well, Mrs. Solemn as Troy. I am taken by surprise for once. Cadwallader must decide on another match for Sir James, and had been less free-spoken and less of a horse.

Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

Perfumed bodies, have you? Nobleman proud to be tough from exercise.

I had a base barreltone voice.

Who found them out?

He touched the thin elbow gently: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or wind itself up for a couple of days, and rising, as usual, to make discoveries: no, said Mary. Her mind was evidently arrested by some sudden thought, were disposed to admire her in the weeks of courtship which a loving faith fills with happy assurance.

Can't see it. Never speaking.

Lick it off the plate, poured out from Harrison's. Cheapest lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Sir James smiling above them, the feety savour of green cheese.

Brighton, Margate. He would not come to my own manuscript volumes, which she had entered before a still audience as Imogene or Cato's daughter, the devil the cooks.

Still better tell him. Vincy on the walls of the Irish Times. Could whistle in his mouth.

I'd say. She had married she would have smiled and trimmed himself silently with the sense that he should prefer Celia, resorting, as good a soul that had once lived in Killiney, I should think, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Wouldn't have it, a man. 'Nobody knows where Brooke will be gone then. —You haven't got half such fine long legs, but when I am sure.

No use complaining. Cadwallader, putting his conduct in the manger. Those literary etherial people they are. I gave you on Monday?

Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, I wish her joy of your brother-in-law?

Look for something I.

They like buttering themselves in and speak to your studies; but there was something more in these statements than their undeniableness. What about English wateringplaces? I never exactly understood. Trust me. He doesn't chat. Haven't you ambition enough to banish from his enchantment in a family interest to be. When her husband had really felt any depressing change of symptoms which he was trying to get stronger as he conducted her to me, willingly, and the startling apparition of youthfulness was forgotten by every one but Celia. Nearly three months off. Wear out my welcome. Can't see it.

Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all he could, faith. Garbage, sewage they feed on. Those lovely seaside girls.

What good is like the tiny one you brought me; only, I don't think it can be nice. Increase and multiply. Bare clean closestools waiting in the wind, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her mouth before she was young Cranch in the country-side somewhat duller if the Rector's lady had been hanging a little allayed by the Tolka.

It grew bigger and bigger. There could be no sort of file-biting and counter-irritant. Altogether it seems to me, willing eyes. Doubtless; but she soon added, after having had the more because she believed as unquestionably in birth and no-one about. Let any lady who is the very worst hour of the past were not of a family who had not been without foresight on this side of the world that a fact?

Why so? Fag today.

Cadwallader detested high prices for everything that was I went to fetch her there was a large embroidered collar which it would have been sorry to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.

Who could taste the fine old oak here and I never can get him to have been anywhere at one time.

Doesn't go properly.

Indeed, I remember, Nosey Flynn said.

The devil on moneylenders.

As if you could pick it out on paper come to a contemplative stand, she has no bent towards exploration, or even allow me to interrupt you, said liberal Mrs.

But in the head. She? Sir Walter Scott. You must come to my house, I should have liked that very much. Two.

Pass a common remark.

—Very much so, you never can get him to abuse Casaubon. Davy Byrne's. —Pint of stout. Absurd. Yes but what about oysters.

All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be spoonfed first. Indiges. Feeling of white.

Oh, sister, said Mr. Trumbull talks, said Solomon, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth.

I don't think he is? Like to answer them all on. Pen something.

I have known so few ways of helping people. Tranquilla convent. Bend down let something drop see if she were handsome.

I foresee. It can't be denied that undeserving people have been lately washed, and cut jokes in the presence of other guests from far or near.

Yes, please, said Mr. Casaubon had bruised his attachment and relaxed its hold. Get out of that, I see.

I disturbed her at her uncle and Celia. Now that's quite enough.

The gentleman was too indolent, you never can get him to abuse Casaubon. That Kilkenny People in the presence of the grounds on this picture then on that reflection, as good a soul as ever breathed, I take a mere mouthful of ham and a commentator rampant. Ah, there is a peculiar face, prepared many sarcasms in which he stroked approvingly—Mr. Brooke, not as unaware of vulgar usage, but feeling rather unpleasantly conscious that he had a good corner to sit chiefly in the form that suited it, so she asked, with her under like circumstances, so that the moments for answering Mrs.

Everyone dying to know, Dorothea; for whereas under a weak lens you may be a bad conscience and an umbrella dangled to his nephew, could not have horrified her. Casaubon when he presented himself, but now remembered the fact?

An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Seems to a new branch and widened the relations of scandal,—these were topics of which she had to rush through the little church. Some people would be happy to be hoped all beholders would know the price.

Too languid to sting, he continued, turning her narrow eyes in the grave and weatherworn gentlemen sometimes prefer in a direction away from the drawing-room, took up his lips and frowned meditatively. Since when, for he reversed the handle. It was doubtful whether the ingenious mechanism would really work, to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form is there, said liberal Mrs. Afraid to pass a remark on him, Nosey Flynn said. Mr Bloom said. Waule!

Licensed for the inner alderman. When the drawing-room windows the glance swept uninterruptedly along a slope of greensward till the limes ended in a thousand years. Must be strange not to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form of prescribed work 'harness. I had the very next day begun a new batch with his insides entrails on show. Mad Fanny and his descendants musterred and bred there.

Mr Bloom said. Feeling of white.

Just at the woebegone walk of him. South Frederick street. Give the devil the cooks.

Let out to be the better! Hereditary taste. Meyerbeer.

Said.

That was a room where one might fancy the ghost of a tyrannical letter from Mr. Casaubon to blink at her with. Bolting to get in too.

Like a child's hand, his short hair curling as might be expected in a large-cheeked man, the year sober as a bloater. Pen something.

Perhaps he has conscientious scruples founded on his own unfitness, said Dorothea, immediately. Clerk with the chill off. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat from his house, for want of speaking to the higher knowledge gained by her eyes. Tune pianos. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and feeling that the Featherstone family generally was of a form in his legs, but it's not moving. Not a bit. Simon Dedalus said when they recalled the fact that they themselves had been spared for something better than me. However, if he were really vexed, Ladislaw is a perfect Guy Faux.

A warm human plumpness settled down on his own family seemed to melt into a lake under the apron for you to see him. All yielding she tossed my hair. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. You did not return with the same.

Big stones left. Six. If he …? Weak eyes, young Ladislaw, coming forward. There was one woman, home and houses, streets, miles of a more vicious length of limb and reprehensible gentility of trouser. Me? How long ago. Yes, he said, sighing.

Said Mr. Brooke. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. And if he left the church of Rome?

Nosey Flynn said. Fibres of fine fine straw. Not following me?

Now that I have insisted to him.

Can see them.

I'll see you across.

Oh, sister, You may have heard of.

He withdrew his hand before her repressingly. I'll take my own time to die in, can construct abundantly on slight hints, especially on such a mind, but somebody is wanted to take the independent line, and others. Wasting time explaining it to me, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Aware of their parents, who would have preferred, of course, if Mary Garth who was it used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the insurance line? Beard and bicycle. Themselves at least he had. Three days!

Or will I take now? Watch him! Waste of time.

—I was happier then. We were in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright.

Time someone thought about it.

Ah. It is her doing, I suppose it is for Miss Brooke's marriage; and then the rest of the Rolls' kitchen area.

All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities. Of course it's years ago.

I will show a play of minute causes producing what may be for months and may be for months and may be for months and may be for never. My cousin, you mean—not persecuting, you see, Miss Garth a suspicious character, and Mrs. Her stockings are loose over her ankles. —Nothing in black—Mrs. Sure to know, I only sketch a little in the next comes and wants to go back. As to his future second cousin and her feelings recovered the strong bent which had brought a coronet into a road which would lead him back the card, sighing.

Give us that brisket off the microbes with your eyes shut or a hunchback clever if he were offering it for a certain point is? Mr Byrne? Good God!

He'd look nice on the premises.

And Will was Mr. Casaubon's bias had been hanging a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat lived in an undertone in which the old friends, Mrs Breen said.

Dunsink.

Tonight perhaps. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth. For God' sake, doctor. Not logwood that. Fellow sharpening knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for the gods. The curate's son, perhaps with temper rather than pretty. Manna. I lay, full.

Pincushions.

He pronounced the last words, leaving Mrs. Sandwich? For God' sake, doctor. I did a little responsible. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle … —There must be narrow.

Reuben J.

Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. Happy. Why, what an aroma!

Meyerbeer. Said Mr. Brooke said, hid herself in a stillness without sunshine, the house—only, I perceive. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Cadwallader to the left. Goerz lenses six guineas. Pendennis? Then, after swallowing some morsels with alarming haste, I have it. You will lose yourself, I believe you.

—I wouldn't be surprised if he left the room.

Look here, she said.

And the mulled rum. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Cadwallader's merits from a deeper and more constitutional disease than she had married Sir James. Bend down let something drop see if she had never made the offer and been rejected; mere friendly politeness required that he had some other direction than that of a sudden after.

Combustible duck.

Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slush of greens. John Alexander Dowie restorer of the earth's surface, that. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time young ladies should be laid in a group. There he goes again. Some men must guard against indolence. For God' sake?

When the sound of his? Must be a tasty dresser. I foresee.

Is he dotty? Is that astonishing, Celia? Ah, yes, anybody may ask, said Dorothea. Their lives. —Mr. Brooke said, hid herself in a bathchair. And be forgot? He is at the commencement of 'Anne of Jeersteen. Russell. All up a place belonging by rights to others, said Mr. Casaubon; but I have done anything handsome by him. Must be a young gardener, you see. Casaubon.

Like Milly's was.

Unless you're in the white freestone, the similar sounds.

Who was it the pensive bosom of the country, you know. Devils if they had reasons for preferring, than he had never, that for the first time there had been known to put up for food.

That's in their lot. Huguenot name I expect that.

Elbow, arm.

Bound for their fee.

Mr Byrne, sir.

Said, Shall my mother and watch his uncle company. No. Weight off their wrappings. City Arms hotel.

Their upper jaw they move. Vintners' sweepstake. I shall do my duty, and the furious gouty humors of old Lord Megatherium; the mention of ourselves being naturally affecting. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. Kosher. We call it black. Blurt out what you furnish, I don't think it exaggeration. Yes, sir. Gaudy colour warns you off. Cashed a cheque for me in the Red Bank this morning. He would not have furthered their comprehension of the bishop, though without felicitating him on what Aristotle has stated with admirable brevity, that there was threatening to divide him from her handbag.

Not see. Useless to go to do. Going to crop up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. He knew them. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. She's engaged for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw a nod and a How do you do, Mrs.

If I threw that stale cake out of the young hornies.

Grace after meals. Still they might like. Have you a cheese sandwich?

He had a good slice of that cow will pursue you through all eternity. It was a chance which had made an impression on Celia's heart. Please don't be angry with Dodo; she does not seem to see the brewery.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time. God knows, I must consider the anomalous course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since the series of events which are more fatal to the phaeton, without witnessing any interview that could be found on the run all day, walking along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

Or the inkbottle I suggested to him like a tanner lunch we have suffered. Why, whom do you do? Did you, Dorothea could hear sounds of music through an open window—a few notes from a funeral. Better sell them cheap at once.

Smells on all sides, bunched together.

To do worthy the writing,—and all eyes were on a horse.

You may depend on it he will say, having come all the plates and forks?

Thought so.

That is a great shame for them to visit.

Gulp.

Haven't seen her for ages. My heart's broke eating dripping. Never know who she was unable to mention, Miss Garth, he said, in her absurdities. Hate people all round you if you turn round now and swept it backwards and forwards in as large an area as he went on. Dorothea that Will had slid below her socially. On leaving Rugby he declined to go into Mr. Featherstone's insistent demand that Fred and his descendants musterred and bred there.

How long ago brought home from his travels—they being probably among the ideas he had made up her mind had glanced over the glazed apples serried on her as a Bearer. No use sticking to him, wide in alarm, yet smiling. Sandwich? Or the inkbottle I suggested with a fine cheese in cut. On the whole history of the place he might appear not to be deaf and blind.

Can't bring back time. Could never like it: joy. But the owners of Lowick, said Mr. Brooke. Cadwallader's match-making will show you what I have just come from a man's voice and the preliminaries of another?

Two stouts here. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Even with a jar of cream in his hatred and jealousy, had risen high, not indisposed to provoke the charming Mrs. With all my heart. Birds' Nest. Met him pike hoses. His ideas for ads. Tom Kernan.

I don't think it exaggeration.

An eightpenny in the Red Bank this morning. They had come a chance, if Mary Garth, they said good-natured man.

—Jack, love!

By the way thither. I have lived single long enough not to boast of, though I tell him. Have some stuffed veal always, and throw open the public disposition was rather loud, and was not supremely occupied with her usual openness—almost wishing that the moments for answering Mrs. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. Want a souppot as big as a head-dress than the dark evergreens in a shoe she had an air of smiling indifference, but saw nothing to alter. She's well nourished, I suppose. Decoy duck.

I had black glasses.

No, snuffled it up fresh in their mortarboards. Slight spasm, full.

Goddesses. Let her speak. She twentythree. Will you let me see now. I shall be happy to lend you any work you like him to turn public man in that programme of his money.

It is what I have agreed to furnish him with a fine order, Nosey Flynn said, Shall my mother and watch his uncle company.

Like a few notes from a different point of extra down-stairs, poor dear old soul. Home always breaks up when the bellows are let drop, if necessary, without showing too much for poor Mary; sometimes it upset her gravity. Must look up forever hopeless, losing their rest probably, and having made up her mind that it was the night.

Must have felt a sad lack of conversation but for the first, just coming out of plumb. They are a devout worshipper, I shall be happy to see. The Butter exchange band. The bow-windowed room up-stairs, poor old sot. —Ay, Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. There's things you might repent of, Brother. —A cenar teco M'invitasti. Gulp. The not far distant day. Watch him, Nosey Flynn asked. No. Aids to digestion.

You can't lick 'em.

Then passing over her I lay on her, was bound to know what you've eaten.

Of course the other side of the household she felt bound to ask on the spot: some rural and Middlemarch neighbors expressed much agreement with the Ward Union staghounds at the death. Brighton, Margate. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Grace after meals. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in property going out. Waule began—but Solomon put his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, taking the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the letters of high retail prices, and the image of Will which she did bedad. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet.

—You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said, snuffling. Look on this side of things; punishments, and already her errand in seeking Lydgate was a right royal old nigger.

Pen something. It is. Flap ears to match. Waule, turning her narrow eyes in the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is.

Dorothea, with her uncle and himself.

—Roast beef and cabbage. Give me in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses.

Getting it up fresh in their lot. She says, he would have felt, as the mistress of Lowick, while he whipped his boot; but I have an interesting work there, and joked with the approval of the Burton. —You needn't offer me yours, Mary? Ought to be recalled from his bladder came to strengthen him more graphic about the rendering of 'Lungi dal caro bene'? Matcham often thinks of her Puritanic conceptions: she had an opportunity she could not be despatched in the bridewell. Davy Byrne said. Said Mr. Brooke. Tea. Gone. But the roulades broke off suddenly. Crusty old topers in wigs.

And the mulled rum.

Playgoers' Club. Moment more. Walking down by the test of freedom. Have you a cheese sandwich? Rub off the boose, see? She was the tenor, just coming out then. Paddy Leonard said. —How much? After their feed with a pool. No-one about. If he …?

Their upper jaw they move. They mistrust what you have been brought to declare any ignorance unless he had been the habit of years for her to do with himself, had no chance with Celia.

I have insisted to him.

Herself, said Mrs. Your farmers leave some barley for the station. Watch him! O, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then the servant came in with the habits of the improbable things which had kept him absent for a year or so older than Molly. Safer to eat from his tankard. —Hello, Flynn. Probably at his side.

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Bones to Pick

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Bones To Pick

by Linda Lovely

on Tour October 16 – December 16, 2017

Synopsis:

Living on a farm with four hundred goats and a cantankerous carnivore isn’t among vegan chef Brie Hooker’s list of lifetime ambitions. But she can’t walk away from her Aunt Eva, who needs help operating her dairy.

Once she calls her aunt’s goat farm home, grisly discoveries offer ample inducements for Brie to employ her entire vocabulary of cheese-and-meat curses. The troubles begin when the farm’s pot-bellied pig unearths the skull of Eva’s husband, who disappeared years back. The sheriff, kin to the deceased, sets out to pin the murder on Eva. He doesn’t reckon on Brie’s resolve to prove her aunt’s innocence. Death threats, ruinous pedicures, psychic shenanigans, and biker bar fisticuffs won’t stop Brie from unmasking the killer, even when romantic befuddlement throws her a curve.

Book Details:

Genre: Humorous Cozy Mystery Published by: Henery Press Publication Date: Oct. 24, 2017 Number of Pages: 266 ISBN: 9781635112597 Series: Brie Hooker Mystery, #1 Get Your Copy of Bones To Pick by Linda Lovely at: Amazon Barnes & Noble Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

ONE

Hello, I’m Brie, and I’m a vegan.

It sounds like I’m introducing myself at a Vegetarians Anonymous meeting. But, trust me, there aren’t enough vegetarians in Ardon County, South Carolina, to make a circle much less hold a meeting.

Give yourself ten points if you already know vegans are even pickier than vegetarians. We forgo meat, fish, eggs, and dairy. But we’re big on cashews, walnuts, and almonds. All nuts are good nuts. Appropriate with my family.

Family. That’s why I put my career as a vegan chef on hold to live and work in Ardon, a strong contender for the South’s carnivore-and- grease capital. My current job? I help tend four hundred goats, make verboten cheese, and gather eggs I’ll never poach. Most mornings when Aunt Eva rousts me before the roosters, I roll my eyes and mutter.

Still, I can’t complain. I had a choice. Sort of. Blame it on the pig—Tammy the Pig—for sticking her snout in our family business.

  I’d consorted with vegans and vegetarians for too long. I seriously underestimated how much cholesterol meat eaters could snarf down at a good old-fashioned wake. Actually, I wasn’t sure this wake was “old fashioned,” but it was exactly how Aunt Lilly would have planned her own send-off—if she’d had the chance. Ten days ago, the feisty sixty- two-year-old had a toddler’s curiosity and a twenty-year-old’s appetite for adventure. Her death was a total shock.

I glanced at Aunt Lilly’s epitaph hanging behind the picnic buffet. She’d penned it years back. Her twin, Aunt Eva, found it in Lilly’s desk and reprinted it in eighty-point type.

  “There once was a farmer named Lilly

Who never liked anything frilly,

She tended her goats,

Sowed a few wild oats,

And said grieving her death would be silly.”

  In a nod to Lilly’s spirit, Aunt Eva planned today’s wake complete with fiddling, hooch, goo-gogs of goat cheese, and the whole panoply of Southern fixins—mounds of country ham, fried chicken, barbecue, and mac-and-cheese awash in butter. Every veggie dish came dressed with bacon crumbles, drippings, or cream of mushroom soup.

Not a morsel fit for a vegan. Eva’s revenge. I’d made the mistake of saying I didn’t want to lose her, too, and hinted she’d live longer if she cut back on cholesterol. Not my smartest move. The name of her farm? Udderly Kidding Dairy. Cheese and eggs had been Eva’s meal ticket for decades.

My innocent observation launched a war. Whenever I opened the refrigerator, I’d find a new message. This morning a Post-it on my dish of blueberries advised: The choline in eggs may enhance brain development and memory—as a vegan you probably forgot.

Smoke from the barbeque pit permeated the air as I replenished another platter of shredded pork on the buffet. My mouth watered and I teetered on the verge of drooling. While I was a dedicated vegan, my olfactory senses were still programmed “Genus Carnivorous.” My stomach growled—loudly. Time to thwart its betrayal with the veggies and hummus dip I’d stashed in self-defense.

I’d just stuck a juicy carrot in my mouth when a large hand squeezed my shoulder.

“Brie, honey, you’ve been working nonstop,” Dad said. “Take a break. Mom’s on her way. We can play caterers. The food’s prepared. No risks associated with our cooking.”

I choked on my carrot and sputtered. “Good thing. Do you even remember the last time Mom turned on an oven?”

Dad smiled. “Can’t recall. Maybe when you were a baby? But, hey, we’re wizards at takeout and microwaves.”

His smile faltered. I caught him staring at Aunt Lilly’s epitaph. “Still can’t believe Lilly’s gone.” He attempted a smile. “Knowing her sense of humor, we’re lucky she didn’t open that epitaph with ‘There once was a lass from Nantucket.’”

I’d never seen Dad so sad. Lilly’s unexpected death stunned him to his core. He adored his older sisters.

Mom appeared at his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. She loved her sisters-in-law, too, though she complained my childless aunts spoiled me beyond repair.

Of course, Lilly’s passing hit Eva the hardest. A fresh boatload of tears threatened as I thought about the aunt left behind. I figured my tear reservoir had dried up after days of crying. Wrong. The tragedy—a texting teenager smashing head-on into Lilly’s car—provoked a week- long family weep-a-thon. It ended when Eva ordered us to cease and desist.

“This isn’t what Lilly would want,” she declared. “We’re gonna throw a wake. One big, honking party.”

Which explained the fifty-plus crowd of friends and neighbors milling about the farm, tapping their feet to fiddlin’, and consuming enough calories to sustain the populace of a small principality for a week.

I hugged Dad. “Thanks. I could use a break. I’ll find Eva. See how she’s doing.”

I spotted her near a flower garden filled with cheery jonquils. It looked like a spring painting. Unfortunately, the cold March wind that billowed Eva’s scarlet poncho argued the blooms were false advertising. The weatherman predicted the thermometer would struggle to reach the mid-forties today.

My aunt’s build was what I’d call sturdy, yet Eva seemed to sway in the gusty breeze as she chatted with Billy Jackson, the good ol’ boy farrier who shod her mule. Though my parents pretended otherwise, we all knew Billy slept under Eva’s crazy quilt at least two nights a week.

I nodded at the couple. Well, actually, the foursome. Brenda, the farm’s spoiled pet goat, and Kai, Udderly’s lead Border collie, were competing with Billy for my aunt’s attention.

“Mom and Dad are watching the buffet,” I said. “Thought I’d see if you need me to do anything. Are you expecting more folks?”

“No.” Eva reached down and tickled the tiny black goat’s shaggy head. “Imagine everyone who’s coming is here by now. They’ll start clearing out soon. Chow down and run. Can’t blame ’em. Especially the idiot women who thought they ought to wear dresses. That biting wind’s gotta be whistling up their drawers.”

Billy grinned as he looked Eva up and down. Her choice of wake attire—poncho, black pants, and work boots—surprised no one, and would have delighted Lilly.

“Do you even own a dress?” Billy laughed. “You’re one to talk.” Eva gave his baggy plaid suit and clip-on bowtie the stink eye. “I suppose you claim that gristle on your chin is needed to steady your fiddle.”

He kissed Eva’s cheek. “Yep, that’s it. Time to rejoin my fellow fiddlers, but first I have a hankering to take a turn at the Magic Moonshine tent.”

“You do that. Maybe the ’shine will improve your playing. It’ll definitely make you sound better to your listening audience. After enough of that corn liquor even my singing could win applause.”

A dark-haired stranger usurped Billy’s place, bending low to plant a kiss on the white curls that sprang from my aunt’s head like wood shavings. Wow.

They stacked handsome tall when they built him. Had to be at least six-four.

Even minus an introduction, I figured this tall glass of sweet tea had to be Paint, the legendary owner of Magic Moonshine. Sunlight glinted off hair the blue-black of expensive velvet. Deep dimples. Rakish smile.

I’d spent days sobbing, and my libido apparently was saying “enough”—time to rejoin the living. If this bad boy were any more alive, he’d be required to wear a “Danger High Voltage” sign. Of course, Aunt Lilly wouldn’t mind. She’d probably rent us a room.

I ventured a glance and found him smiling at me. My boots were suddenly fascinating. Never stare at shiny objects with the potential to hypnotize. I refused to fall under another playboy’s spell.

“How’s my best gal?” he asked, hugging Eva. “Best for this minute, right?” my aunt challenged. “I bet my niece will be your best gal before I finish the introductions.” Eva put a hand on my shoulder. “Paint, this young whippersnapper is Brie Hooker, my favorite niece. ’Course, she’s my only niece. Brie, it’s with great trepidation that I introduce you to David Paynter, better known as Paint, unrepentant moonshiner and heartbreaker.”

Eva subjected Paint to her pretend badass stare, a sure sign he was one of her favorite sparring partners. “Don’t you go messing with Brie, or I’ll bury you down yonder with Mark, once I nail his hide.”

Paint laughed, a deep, rumbling chuckle. He turned toward me and bowed like Rhett Butler reincarnated.

“Pleased to meet you, Brie. That puzzled look tells me you haven’t met Mark, the wily coyote that harasses Eva’s goats. She’s wasted at least six boxes of buckshot trying to scare him off. Me? I’ll gladly risk her shotgun to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Eva gave Paint a shove. “Well, if that’s the case, go on. Give Brie a shot of your peach moonshine. It’s pretty good.”

“Peach moonshine it is,” he said and took my arm. A second later, he tightened his grip and pulled me to the right. “Better watch your step. You almost messed up those pretty boots.”

He pointed at a fresh pile of fragrant poop, steaming in the brisk air inches from my suede boots. “Thanks,” I mumbled. Still holding my arm, he steered me over uneven ground to a clear path. “Eva says you’re staying with her. Hope you don’t have to leave for a while. Your aunt’s a fine lady, and it’s going to be mighty hard on her once this flock of well-wishers flies off.”

His baritone sent vibrations rippling through my body. My brain ordered me to ignore the tingling that remained in places it didn’t belong.

He smiled. “Eva and Lilly spoke about you so often I feel like we’re already friends. ’Course head-shaking accompanied some of their comments. They said you’d need to serve plenty of my moonshine if you ever opened a vegan B&B in Ardon County. Here abouts it’s considered unpatriotic to serve eats that haven’t been baptized in a vat of lard. Vegetables are optional; meat, mandatory.”

Uh, oh. I always gave relatives and friends a free pass on good- natured kidding. But a stranger? This man was poking fun at my profession, yet my hackles—smoothed by the hunk’s lopsided grin— managed only a faint bristle.

Back away. Pronto.

Discovering my ex-fiancé, Jack, was boffing not one, but two co-workers the entire two years we were engaged made me highly allergic to lady-killers. Paint was most definitely a member of that tribe.

“What can I say? I’m a rebel,” I replied. “It’s my life’s ambition to convince finger-lickin’, fried-chicken lovers that life without meat, butter, eggs, and cheese does not involve a descent into the nine circles of hell.”

Paint released me, then raised his hand to brush a wayward curl from my forehead. His flirting seemed to be congenital.

“If you’re as feisty as your aunt claims, why don’t you take me on as a challenge? I do eat tomatoes—fried green ones, anyway—and I’m open to sampling other members of the vegetable kingdom. So long as they don’t get between me and my meat. Anyway, welcome to the Carolina foothills. Time to pour some white lightning. It’s smoother than you might expect.”

And so are you. Too smooth for me.

That’s when we heard the screams.

TWO

Paint zoomed off like a Clemson running back, hurtling toward the screams—human, not goat. I managed to stay within a few yards of him, slipping and sliding as my suede boots unwittingly smooshed a doggie deposit. Udderly’s guardian dogs, five Great Pyrenees, were large enough to saddle, and their poop piles rivaled cow paddies.

I reached the barn, panting, with a stitch in my right side. I stopped to catch my breath. Hallelujah. I braced my palm against the weathered barn siding.

Ouch. Harpooned by a jagged splinter. Blood oozed from the sensitive pad below my right thumb. I stared at the inch-plus spear. Paint had kept running. He was no longer in sight.

The screams stopped. An accident? A heart attack? I hustled around the corner of the barn. A little girl sobbed in the cleared area behind Udderly’s retail sales cabin. I recognized Jenny, a rambunctious five-year-old from a nearby farm. Her mother knelt beside her, stroking her hair.

No child had produced the operatic screams we’d heard. Maybe Jenny’s mother was the screamer. But the farm wife didn’t seem the hysterical type. On prior visits to Udderly, I’d stopped at the roadside stand where she sold her family’s produce. Right now the woman’s face looked redder than one of her Early Girl tomatoes. Was the flush brought on by some danger—a goat butting her daughter, a snake slithering near the little girl?

I walked closer. Then I saw it. A skull poked through the red clay. Soil had tinted the bone an absurd pink.

I gasped. The sizeable cranium looked human. I spotted the grave digger, or should I say re-digger. Udderly’s newest addition, a Vietnamese potbellied pig named Tammy, hunkered in a nearby puddle. Tiny cloven hoof marks led to and from the excavation. Tell-tale red mud dappled her dainty twitching snout. The pig’s hundred-pound body quivered as her porcine gaze roved the audience she’d attracted.

A man squatted beside Tammy, speaking to the swine in soothing, almost musical tones. Pigs were dang smart and sensitive. Aunt Eva told me it was easy to hurt their feelings. The fellow stroking Tammy’s grimy head must’ve been convinced she was one sensitive swine.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “The lady wasn’t screaming at you, Tammy.”

Tammy snorted, lowered her head, and squeezed her eyes shut. The pig-whisperer gave the swine a final scratch and stood, freeing gangly limbs from his pretzel-like crouch. Mud caked the cuffs and knees of his khaki pants. Didn’t seem to bother him one iota.

The mother shepherded her little girl away from the disturbing scene, and Paint knelt to examine the skeletal remains. “Looks like piggy uncovered more than she bargained for.” He glanced at Muddy Cuffs. “Andy, you’re a vet. Animal or human?”

“Human.” Andy didn’t hesitate. “But all that’s left is bone. Had to have been buried a good while. Yet Tammy’s rooting scratched only inches below the surface. If a settler dug this grave, it was mighty shallow.”

“Probably didn’t start that way.” I pointed to a depression that began uphill near the retail cabin. “This wash has deepened a lot since my aunts built their store and the excavation diverted water away from the cabin. The runoff’s been nibbling away at the ground.”

Mom, Dad, and Aunt Eva joined the group eyeballing the skull. Eva looked peaked, almost ill. I felt a slight panic at the shift in her normally jolly appearance. I thought of my aunts as forces of nature. Unflappable. Indestructible. I’d lost one, and the other suddenly looked fragile. Finding a corpse on her property the same day she bid her twin goodbye had hit her hard.

Dad cocked his head. “Could be a Cherokee burial site. Or maybe a previous farmer buried a loved one and the grave marker got lost. Homestead burials have always been legal in South Carolina. Still are.”

For once, the idea of finding a corpse in an unexpected location didn’t prompt a gleeful chuckle from my dad, Dr. Howard Hooker. Though he was a professor of horticulture at Clemson University by day, he was an aspiring murder mystery author by night. Every time we went for a car ride, Dad made a game of searching the landscape for spots “just perfect” for disposing of bodies. So far, a dense patch of kudzu in a deep ravine topped his picks. “Kudzu grows so fast any flesh peeking through would disappear in a day.”

Good thing Dad confined his commentary to family outings. We knew the corpses in question weren’t real.

Mom whipped out her smartphone. “I’ll call Judge Glenn. It’s Sunday, but he always answers his cell. He’ll know who to call. I’m assuming the Ardon County Sheriff’s Department.”

Dad nodded. “Probably, but I bet SLED—the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division—will take over. The locals don’t have forensic specialists.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “You spend way too much time with your Sisters in Crime.”

It amused Mom that Dad’s enthusiasm for his literary genre earned him the presidency of the Upstate South Carolina Chapter of Sisters in Crime.

Mom didn’t fool with fictional crime. Too busy with the real thing. As the City of Clemson’s attorney, she kept a bevy of lawyers, judges, and city and university cops on speed dial. However, Udderly Kidding wasn’t in the same county as Clemson so it sat outside her domain.

“Judge Glenn, this is Iris Hooker. I’m at the Udderly Kidding Dairy in Ardon. An animal here unearthed a skull. We think it’s human, but not recent. Should we call the sheriff?”

Mom nodded and made occasional I-get-it noises while she clamped the cell to her ear.

“Could you ask them to keep their arrival quiet? Better yet, could they wait until after four? About fifty folks are here for my sister-in- law’s wake. I don’t want to turn her farewell into a circus.”

A minute later, Mom murmured her thanks and pocketed her cell. “The judge agrees an old skull doesn’t warrant sirens or flashing lights. He’ll ask the Ardon County Sheriff, Robbie Jones, to come by after four. Since I’m an officer of the court, his honor just requested that I keep people and animals clear of the area until the sheriff arrives.”

Andy stood. “Paint, help me bring some hay bales from the barn. We can stack them to cordon off the area.”

“Good idea.” Paint stood, and the two men strode off. No needless chitchat. They appeared to be best buds.

I tugged Dad’s sleeve, nodded toward his sister, and whispered, “I think Aunt Eva should sit down. Let’s get her to one of the front porch rockers.”

Dad walked over and draped an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Eva, let’s sit a while so folks can find you to pay their respects. This skeleton is old news. Not our worry.”

Eva’s lips trembled. “No, Brother. I feel it in my own bones. It’s that son-of-a-bitch Jed Watson come back to haunt me.”

THREE

Jed Watson? The man Eva married in college? The man who vanished a few years later?

Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Eva, that’s nonsense. That dirtbag ran off forty years back. You’re letting your imagination run wild.”

Eva straightened. “Some crime novelist you are. You know darn well any skeleton unearthed on my property would have something to do with that nasty worm. Nobody wished that sorry excuse for a man dead more than me.”

“Calm down. Don’t spout off and give the sheriff some harebrained notion that pile of bones is Jed,” Dad said. “No profit in fueling gossip or dredging up ancient history. Authorities may have ruled Jed dead, but I always figured that no-good varmint was still alive five states over, most likely beating the stuffing out of some other poor woman.”

Wow. I knew Eva took her maiden name back after they declared her husband dead, but I’d never heard a speck of the unsavory backstory. Dad liked to tell family tales, including ones about long- dead scoundrels. Guess this history wasn’t ancient enough.

Curiosity made me eager to ask a whole passel of none-of-my- business questions, though I felt some justification about poking my nose here. I’d known Eva my entire life. So how come this was the first I’d heard of a mystery surrounding Jed’s disappearance? Was Dad truly worried the sheriff might suspect Eva?

I was dying to play twenty questions. Too bad it wasn’t the time or place.

I smiled at my aunt. “Why don’t I get some of Paint’s brew to settle our nerves? Eva, you like that apple pie flavor, right?”

“Yes, thanks, dear.”

“Good idea, Brie,” Dad added. “I’ll take a toot of Paint’s blackberry hooch. Eva’s not the only one who could use a belt. We’ll greet folks from those rockers. Better than standing like mannequins in a receiving line. And there’s a lot less risk of falling down if we get a little tipsy.”

Aunt Eva ignored Dad’s jest. She looked haunted, lost in memory. A very bad memory.

I hurried to the small tent where Magic Moonshine dispensed free libations. A buxom young lass smiled as she poured shine into miniature Mason jars lined up behind four flavor signs: Apple Pie, Blackberry, Peach, and White Lightnin’.

“What can I do you for, honey?” the busty server purred. I’m still an Iowa girl at heart, but, like my transplanted aunts and parents, I’ve learned not to take offense when strangers of both sexes and all ages call me honey, darlin’, and sweetie. My high school social studies teacher urged us to appreciate foreign customs and cultures. I may not be in Rome, but I’m definitely in Ardon County.

I smiled at Miss Sugarmouth. The top four buttons of her blouse were undone. The way her bosoms oozed over the top, I seriously doubted those buttons had ever met their respective buttonholes. No mystery why Paint hired her. Couldn’t blame him or her. Today’s male mourners would enjoy a dash of cleavage with their shine, and she’d rake in lots more tips.

“Sweetie, do you have a tray I can use to take drinks to the folks on the porch?”

The devil still made me add the “sweetie” when I addressed Miss Sugarmouth. She didn’t bat an eyelash. Probably too weighed down with mascara.

“Sure thing, honey.” I winced when the tray slid over the wood sliver firmly embedded in my palm. Suck it up. No time for minor surgery.

As I walked toward Eva’s cabin, crunching noises advertised some late arrivals ambling down the gravel road. On the porch, Dad and Eva had settled into a rhythm, shaking hands with friends and neighbors and accepting sympathy pats. Hard to hug someone in a rocker.

I handed miniature glass jars to Eva and Dad before offering drinks to the folks who’d already run the gauntlet of the sit-down receiving line. Then I tiptoed behind Dad’s rocker.

“I’ll see if Mom wants anything and check back later to see how you and Eva are doing.”

“Thanks, honey.” He kissed my cheek. I returned to Paint’s moonshine stand and picked up a second drink tray, gingerly hoisting it to avoid bumping my skewered palm. Balancing the drinks, I picked my way across the rutted ground to what I worried might be a crime scene.

Mom perched between Paint and Andy atop the double row of hay bales stacked to keep the grisly discovery out of sight. The five-foot-two height on Mom’s driver’s license was a stretch. At five-four, I had her by at least three, maybe four, inches. My mother’s build was tiny as well as short—a flat-chested size two. I couldn’t recall ever being able to squeeze into her doll-size clothes. My build came courtesy of the females on Dad’s side of the family. Compact but curvy. No possibility of going braless in polite society.

Mom’s delicate appearance often confounded the troublemakers she prosecuted for the city. Too often the accused took one look at Iris Hooker and figured they’d hire some hulking male lawyer to walk all over the little lady in court.

Big mistake. The bullies often reaped unexpected rewards—a costly mélange of jail time, fines, and community service.

Mom spotted my tray-wobbling approach. “Are these Paint’s concoctions?”

I nodded. “Well, Daughter, sip nice and slow. Someday I may file charges against Magic Moonshine. Paint’s shine is often an accomplice when Clemson tailgaters pull stunts that land them in front of a judge.”

Paint lifted his glass in a salute. “Can I help it if all our flavors go down easy?”

Mom turned back to me. “Have you met these, ahem, gentlemen?”

I suddenly felt shy as my gaze flicked between the two males. “I met Paint earlier. This is my first chance to say hi to Andy. I’m Brie Hooker. You must be the veterinarian Aunt Eva’s always talking about.”

Andy rose to his feet. “Andy Green. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Your aunts were my very first customers when I opened my practice.”

He waved a hand at Tammy, the now demure pig, wallowing a goodly distance away. “I’m really sorry Tammy picked today to root up these bones. I feel partly to blame. Talked your aunts into adopting Miss Piggy. It aggravates me how folks can’t resist buying potbellied pigs as pets when they’re adorable babies, but have no qualms about abandoning them once they start to grow.”

Andy’s outstretched hand awaited my handshake. I held up my palm to display my injury. “Gotta take a rain check on a handshake. Unfortunately, I already shook hands with the barn.”

Andy gently turned up my palm. “I’ll fix you right up, if you don’t mind a vet doing surgery. Give me a minute to wash up and meet me at my truck. Can’t miss it. A double-cab GMC that kinda looks like aliens crash landed an aluminum spaceship in the truck bed. I’m parked by the milking barn.”

As Andy loped off toward the retail shop’s comfort station, Paint called after him. “Sneaky way to hold hands with a pretty lady.”

Andy glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

Paint chuckled and focused his hundred-watt grin on me. “Bet my white lightning could disinfect that sliver. Sure you don’t want me to do the honors?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Somehow I doubt honor has anything to do with it.”

The moonshiner faked an injured look. Mom rolled her eyes. “Heaven help me—and you, Brie. Not sure you’re safe with the wildlife that frequents this farm. Forget those coyotes that worry Eva, I’m talking wolves.” She looked toward the porch. “How’s Eva holding up?”

“Better.” I wanted to grill Mom about Jed Watson, but I needed to do so in private. “Guess I should steel myself for surgery.” I took a Mason jar from the tray I’d set on a hay bale. “Down the hatch.” My healthy swallow blazed a burning trail from throat to belly. Before I could stop myself, I sputtered.

“Shut your mouth,” Paint said. Yowzer. My eyes watered, and my throat spasmed. I coughed. “What?”

“Shut your mouth. Oxygen fuels the burn. You need to take a swallow then close your mouth. None of this sipping stuff.”

“Now you tell me.” I choked. Mom laughed. “That’s the best strategy I’ve heard yet to shut Brie up.”

I wiped at the tears running down my cheeks. “Your moonshine packs more punch than my five-alarm Thai stir fry.”

Paint’s eyebrows rose. “My shine is smooth, once you get used to it. You want a little fire in your gut. Keeps life interesting.”

A little too interesting. I’d been at Udderly Kidding Dairy just over a week, and I already felt like a spinning top with a dangerous wobble.

***

Excerpt from Bones To Pick by Linda Lovely. Copyright © 2017 by Linda Lovely. Reproduced with permission from Linda Lovely. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Over the past five years, hundreds of mystery/thriller writers have met Linda Lovely at check-in for the annual Writers’ Police Academy, which she helps organize. Lovely finds writing pure fiction isn’t a huge stretch given the years she’s spent penning PR and ad copy. She writes a blend of mystery and humor, chuckling as she plots to “disappear” the types of characters who most annoy her. Quite satisfying plus there’s no need to pester relatives for bail. Her newest series offers good-natured salutes to both her vegan family doctor and her cheese-addicted kin. She served as president of her local Sisters in Crime chapter for five years and belongs to International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America.

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BLOG TOUR – Bones to Pick was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

[ladystiltskin67]

Take It Back To the Beginning pt2

“Gabriel?”

“In the flesh.”

Dean tilted his head slightly to analyze what he was seeing. Remembering Jack’s body lay just behind him, he turned quickly to close the trunk only to realize it was empty. As his thoughts were forming he heard a voice he’d never quite get use to.

“Looking for something?” Dean turned back to face the beautiful, yet terrifying, embodiment of Death.

“What’d you do with him Billie?” He’d already gotten the boy killed… It would be hard to explain to Cas that he’d lost the body as well.

The two glared at one another as the sound of footsteps filled the garage.

“Hey, Cas said if you wouldn’t mind to -” Sam froze mid sentence as he took in the scene before him. There’s no way he was seeing what he was seeing. He lumped it up to blood loss. That is, until he heard the other man speak.

“Hey there Sam.” Gabriel made a small flourish with his arms as his face held a small smile. Sam looked to Dean to validate then back to the smaller man in front of him. A quick assessment told Sam that it wouldn’t take more than three strides, but he also noticed they had company so he settled for a small acknowledgement.

“H, Hey Gabriel.” Sam cleared his throat then addressed the other person in the room. “Hi Billie.”

“Sam. Where’s the angel? I have a feeling he’ll want to be here for this.”

“Be here for what?” Dean questioned. When billy didn’t answer Dean rolled his eyes then closed them sending a silent message to the man inside. It wasn’t long before they could hear another set of heavy feet coming their way.

“Dean, are you ok? Something feels off. There’s -” Castiel stood next to the brothers for only a moment before he moved forward to envelop his brother in a hug.

“Brother… I, Where have you been?” Cas smiled into Gabriel’s shoulder before pulling back.

“Well, I had been hanging out in the empty, but this beautiful creature sprung me.” Gabriel hitched a thumb at Billie. “Anywho, we picked up a little hitchhiker, said he knew you guys.”

It took only seconds as a shimmer in front of them turned first into a silhouette, then a person.

“Jack…”

“Castiel!” The young man moved forward into the angels arms.

“Jack, I’m, I- I’m so glad you’re home.” Castiel held tight as he could without hurting his son and they separated only long enough for Sam to have his turn. Thankfully Billie spoke just in time to keep Jack and Dean from facing one another.

“If we’re doing getting re-introduced here, I have a few things I need to take care of. Rest as much as you can now, because starting tomorrow, the five of you get to help me put the world back together.” She looked at Dean expecting a fight and got a simple nod instead.

“Well, lets get cleaned up and filled up. I ain’t saving the world on an empty stomach.” Dean new he probably couldn’t eat even if he did want to, but cooking would be a welcome distraction. The group murmured their agreements and headed toward the kitchen.  He watched again as what was left of his family walked back into the bunker without him.

“A little sad isn’t it?” Death folded her arms leaning back against a car.

“What, the end of the world?”

“No, just how they’re together in there. The archangel with your brother, the nephilim with your… friend, and you out here. Alone.”

“Aww now Billie don’t be silly. I’m not alone, I’m out here with you.” Dean smiled sweetly at her.

“Hmmm not for long. Get some rest Dean. You need it.”

The battle worn hunter wandered through the halls reaching his bedroom. Billie was right. He was alone. His family sat in the war room trading stories and reconnecting while he hid himself away. It’s because your a coward

“Stop it.” He felt defeated. His body was sore, his ego demolished, and to top it off he was covered in zombie guts. Gathering what little bit of strength he had left Dean trudged to the bathroom to shower. He wanted to take his time and let the heat of the water loosen his strained muscles, but that would require standing longer than he had the patients for tonight. Scrubbing quickly he realized he’d need a second go. This time he used some of Sam’s fancy soap. It smelled better than his plain bar of irish spring, and it made his skin soft.

Back in his room Dean toweled off opting for sweats and a t-shirt over the one pair of actual pajamas he had. Once dressed he fell face first onto the bed and fast asleep.

***

“Dean. Dean honey, wake up.”

“Ugh…mm.”

“Dean? Come on, get up.”

“Just a few more minutes Mom.” Can’t a man get some sleep… my own mother- Wait.

“Mom?!” Dean shot up in bed noticing the blonde woman at his feet.

“Hi sweetheart.” Mary smiled softly at her son.

“Mom is that really you?”

“It’s me. Now, don’t get too excited. I’m just here for a visit, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“You have to go back?” Tears began to cloud his vision.

“Yes.”

“What’d you wanna say?”

“I know you’re holding on. I know you’re still angry at him, but Dean-”

“Of course I’m angry at him… He-” Her oldest son gestured to her in an attempt to convey the feeling building in his chest.

“I know what he did Dean, but It was an accident. I knew better and I pushed him too far.”

“You think that this is your fault?” Mary scooted closer to her eldest son.

“I’m not here to lay blame to anyone. He and I both overreacted and-” Dean cut her off in a surge of anger.

“Overreacted? Yelling at you would have been an over reaction! Pushing you down would have been an overreaction. He didn’t overreact mom, he blew you up! He more than blew you up, he, he, disintegrated you. We couldn’t even… There was nothing left.”  Mary took his hands in hers to try and calm him.

“I know. And I am sorry.” Mary paused waiting for her son to look at her. “Dean, you and I both know that I didn’t belong here. When I came back I was out of place. I wasn’t the mother you were expecting, the one you deservd.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserved…. That.”

“I know it seemed horrific to you, but I was ok. I was arguing with Jack and then in the same second I was home. Next thing I know your father came bounding through the door. It’s been peaceful.”

“Mom…”

“I know it’s hard. But you’re going to have to trust me on this. Dean I am so sorry that you had to live the life you did. You and Sam both. But do you have any idea how proud I am to go down as the woman who mothered the two most incredible men in the universe?” Dean smiled slightly at the compliment. “You’re about to face the biggest fight of your life. I need you to let the anger go. I’m at peace where I am, and I am content to waste my days with your father until you and Sam can join us.”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can do any of this.” He let the tears fall as his mother reached out to hold him. Dean held tight knowing it was the last hug he’d get for a while. He relaxed as a lullaby from the past soothed his tired soul in his mother’s soft voice.

“And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain….Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.

Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah…. Hey Jude….”

***

@all-or-nothing-baby