New Nice And Cool Cars Caparo

New Nice And Cool Cars Caparo

Inside the House

Perhaps it is the dark side of me that I have chosen to introduce vices (or faults) for the characters, into this work. But I wanted normal human reactions, but believe me they all come under the heading of human weaknesses or bad habits, but I have kept them clear of what might produce, extended evil.

Shannon looked across the table where his wife had been working on a puzzle, the Cathedral in Jackson Square in New Orleans, it was half completed, evidently she had been smoking a cigarette which had been half put out in a nearby ashtray on the table, and there were ashes on the rug he noticed, she must had flicked them, purposely. "I say, she couldn't use an ashtray?" He looked around to see if anything else was out of place, or disturbed. "No," he said. He took out a heavy looking steak from the refrigerator, cut off the fat along the sides with a butcher's knife, sat at the kitchen table as the steak fried, looking across the table into the dinning room where the puzzle was, saw the framed picture of his wife.

"What a pity," he murmured... "Thanks for leaving me a steak, awfully decent of you!"

He didn't know if he was joking or angry, Shannon looked at his hands, wrinkled up around the knuckles, fingers, the thumb. He grabbed a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, gave the top of the bottle a twist, a twirl. "Isn't she a fool?" He remarked, bringing the bottle next to his mouth drinking it half empty. Found a towel, and wiped the bottle dry, the wine had spilt all over it. Then he held the bottle up with one hand "I like to drink!" He shouted. He sat there staring at the bottle, "This is good wine," he muttered, "Here's to you...!"

Then he finished off the bottle, in toast-drinking, "Don't mix emotions up with wine, you lose the taste," he told himself.
"I could write a book on wine," he told the bottle, "all I want out of life is to enjoy it. Let's finish you off!" he said, but it was already empty, and he turned to look at that steak, "let's enjoy you then," he told the steak.

Shannon could be charming sober, a little nutty drunk, he pulled off his shirt, and pulled up his undershirt, he was hot from the wine, the stove, the heat from the kitchen window, the sun seeping through, and the space heater running full blast, his chest was white as a ghost, a big stomach, muscles bulged under the light from the kitchen window, and around his fat. Under the line where his ribs ended was a deep white welt, with ridges, a bullet wound. He touched it, along side that, was a bayoneted scar. He looked at it, goggle-eyed, "I say, you fellows are still there."
The bayonet had gone clear through. He then tucked in his shirt.