Listening to a radio feature about the terrible private lives of CIA operatives --
Mom: You see? Things could be worse. What if you were in the CIA?
Pop: How do you know I'm not? How do you know I'm not a hired assassin?
Mom: Right, and how do you know I'm not a wildly successful author? Maybe I've published dozens of novels under a pen name and have millions in royalties stashed away in a Swiss bank account.
Both snort derisively at the delusions of the other.
3 comments:
After reading the snippet, for what reason I know not, I visited the Bulwer-Lytton It was a stormy night page to see what the winners were up to. :)
How interesting, that leap you made, BB. Just the other day, someone brought in THE LAST DAYS OF POMPEII, saying, "I know I'll never read this," and I convinced her to take it home and read it. The writing style is not ours of today, but the characters and story are gripping!
(Do you think I write like Bulwer-Lytton?)
'Do you think I write like Bulwer-Lytton?' Not in the least. I bet
you could, though! I guess it was the topic-sort of a mysterious what-if. My favorite of the 'stormy night' attempts this year (and I paraphrase here) was
'As the big Cape Buffalos pawed and snorted around us, our
guide, an experienced wildlife
professional, stated in a quiet,
reassuring voice, "just stay quiet, don't panic, the creatures are herbivores." We stayed quiet and didn't panic...except the guy named Herb." No taste, just like a good chuckle, I guess.
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