2/21/2023 0 Comments Sword girls online tcg![]() It would be better, healthier both mentally and physically, to eat some lunch ' read for half an hour or so, and then go for a nice long walk down by the lake. Mort crushed out his cigarette and decided to take a nap. or the round black hat on John Shooter's head.Īhead of him, the corn on both sides of the row shook and rustled. He sat behind his desk, looked out at the lake (like Mrs G., the boats which had been out there earlier were gone), relished his old, vile habit, and found he could think about John Shooter and John Shooter's story with a little more equanimity. ![]() He doubted if the nuts would be fit to eat, but the lid of the bottle made a fine ashtray. He had not stolen John Shooter's story, and he knew he hadn't-if there had been stealing (and there must have been for the two stories to be that close without prior knowledge on the part of one of the two players was impossible for Mort to believe), then it had been Shooter who had stolen from him.Īt an earlier point in his prospecting, he had found an old bottle half full of Planter's Peanuts. The sun had crept around to this side of the house while he was sleeping and had shone in on him through the window-wall for God knew how long. ![]() He was horribly hot every inch of his skin seemed to be running with sweat. He struggled out of a terrible dream-someone had been chasing him, that was all he could clearly remember-to a sitting position on the couch. It was the telephone which woke him an hour and a quarter later. He thought that, subconsciously, he had been expecting something like this for years. John Shooter just happened to be the first person to show up on his doorstep and accuse him of it right out loud. He felt guilty because writing stories had always felt a little bit like stealing, and probably always would. That was why he felt guilty even though he knew he hadn't plagiarized Farmer John Shooter's story. But the item came to you free, clear, and unencumbered. You charged whoever wanted to buy that thing from you-oh yes, all the traffic would bear, and a little more than that, if you could, to make up for all the times the bastards shorted you-magazines, newspapers, book publishers, movie companies. Why would there be? Nobody gave you a bill of sale when you got something for free. And it seems the time has finally come.īut when you got a story idea, no one gave you a bill of sale. ![]() Time-travellers from another age, riding up through the years, patient cylindrical voyagers, their mission to wait, to persevere, to bide until the proper moment to start me on the road to lung cancer again finally arrives. He stuck one of the cigarettes in his mouth, then went out into the kitchen to get a match from the box by the stove. Time-travellers from another age, Mort thought. ![]()
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