![]() "Get the actor," Skip said affectionately. Sounded like fucking World War Three, if you want to know." "Like dynamite or a grenade or something. "Sounded like more than a firecracker," Bobby insisted. You light one of those little mothers and forget to let go of it, you're gonna have to learn to do a lot of basic things left-handed." Same charge had a metal casing instead of a paper wrapper, you'd have a weapon instead of a toy. At our table, Bobby Ruslander reached for a cigarette and said, "Sounded like a bomb." Someone said, "Jesus Christ," and a lot of people let out the breath they'd been holding. The great round noise died out like dust settling, and for a long moment afterward the room remained hushed, as if with respect. It chopped off conversation in midsyllable, froze a waiter in midstride, making of him a statue with a tray of drinks on his shoulder and one foot in the air. ![]() The blast was loud enough and close enough to rattle them. The windows at Morrissey's were painted black. ![]() Of poetry and poses And each man knows he'll be alone When the sacred ginmill closes. ![]()
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