XXXI.

Trotting bearers stole a cable handle, taking it to their house on the northside of town to bury it in their living rooms. I wanted one. Hailed derity to prince a cambridge face who was previously unknown. Blankers shot faces, plummet again without recourse to reconstruct the moment for further study. A need was there, a district for study to whoever would put up enough money. Walking privileges cost a stern price in that district, a film cache to plant may be the growers objected to a maximum set, bounty clauses that didn't permit the activities, legally. Frisbee throwers had contests to raise some money. A monkey feed.

 

        Throwers got together as always a precarious delay in how they were to set up rules and who would decide the monetary status of each event as far as the press. Gathers, gathers. A sewer truck called upon knowledge to be handed out in streamlined pamphlets. I cursed them, how could I be any different. Main wetters on the sidewalk marched their asses past every hitter in the wide angled area, they knew, I suppose, of the dilemmas in precarious victory.

 

        I stayed out of it.

RIVER BED   109

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