Michael Beeson's Research

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‘Larney has to go,’ I decreed. ‘That’s the end of it. We bury Father tomorrow and then we throw Larney out.’ Hickey pointed at the moonlit water.‘A little black head popped up over there and looked right at me. It must of been a seal.’ He jumped in his seat. ‘There he is! Itwas a seal. Jaysus, me heart. For a minute there, I thought I seen the Devil again. Ah for fuck’s sake, Tristram, are you blind or what? Follow the line a me finger.’ “It’s a shame. It’s the death of a young man, not being given the opportunity to earn trust. Theopportunity, you know? Just that. It’s bigger than anything. Oh, you’ll find ways to make fifty bucks here and there. That’s not really what you want out of this. I can tell. It’s not every day you get the chance to point at something you’ve done and say, ‘I could have ruined the shit out of this, but I pulled it off.’ You don’t think I could’ve — if I really wanted to — done this myself? Hell, it would’ve saved me a lot of time, not to mention the fifty. But I see you mowing lawns around the neighborhood, itching to make your mark on something. Grass, though, it grows back quickly, doesn’t it? Not even a couple days later, all your work is invisible. It’s gone. You’re trying, and I give you credit for that. But this—” He grabbed the shovel’s handle between my hands. “—this is permanent. You’ll see.” ‘Yes, I already knew that.’ “But you can’t wake them up at this hour!” ‘Larney has to go,’ I decreed. ‘That’s the end of it. We bury Father tomorrow and then we throw Larney out.’ And their designs were shrouded in snow, just as Mrs Somerset Maugham’s shop in London became buried in naive innocence and white satin. Lacquerware, Chinese blues and whites, expensively designed rice papers, English silverware, white flowers in vases. I was young, and wet, and Theon had driven us to Vegas in a fire-engine-red Rolls-Royce (which was leased but I didn’t know that at the time). That’s why stories happen. That’s why this story happened. “Hey, Dick.” “Take your time,” Kush said. “I don’t really have to use it. I’m just trying to get away from that priest for a bit.” ‘How much?’ I asked. He did not miss the confused glance that passed between them. Kincaid shrugged, and picked up a slat of wood. He faced Hobart for a moment as if to converse, then with snakelike speed slapped the wood against Duncan’s cheek. We got lost again. Then we bought a pig, which we took with us in the car and had roasted by the side of the road. ‘I don’t know, Larney: why?’.