I am coming to Tallahassee Thursday and bringing a superlatively racy story in which I do something out of character and then comedic disaster befalls me, which is totally consistent with my character.
"Why did you leave your wife?" she said.
"Because she ate shrimp," he said. "I couldn't-- You see, it was Friday, and I thought how at noon I'd go to the station and get the box of shrimp off the train and walk home with it, counting a hundred steps and changing hands with it, and it--."
"Did you do this every day?" the woman asked.
"No. Just Friday. But I have done it for ten years, since we were married. And I still don't like to smell shrimp. But I wouldn't mind the carrying it home so much. I could stand that. It's because the package drips. All the way home it drips and drips, until after a while I follow myself to the station and stand aside and watch Horace Benbow take that box off the train and start home with it, changing hands every hundred steps, and I follow him, thinking Here lies Horace Benbow in a fading series of stinking spots on a Mississippi sidewalk."
-- Sanctuary by William Faulkner
1 comment:
Looking forward to the story. And talking to you in person for the first time.
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