the waitress and the satanist, chapter 14; a child will slap your face

additional dialogue in red from "got the blues for murder only" by lonnie johnson

"i don't care how sore they are,pick them up and put them down" "if i could pick a few winners, i'd be all right." "you pay for what i can do, not for what you can do." worn with the heels the white fog in the hallway jacques felt he had lost his way listening to the young marquis in a red bandana "down in old mexico where folks run wild and free" forever worn with the heels the white fog his white handkerchief the dried tears in the fifth he drawled you don't say that asian fellow the copper sun in the fifth race "down in old mexico where folks run wild and free" jacques looked down at the police putting the bodies of harold anderson and jackson johnson into a wagon. a deeply committed rationalist, he assumed there was a good reason, at least in their own minds, why the two policemen carrying the stretchers were dressed as a clown and a gaucho. the marquis continued. "i must say it sounds more jolly than anything, even chocolate cake with pistachio ice cream." that malaysian fellow the copper sun yes i do say on the guardrail on the guardrail on the outside rail the dried mud mister chan the dried raindrops no his brother the red sun in the fifth race he put everything he had on the fifth race "this horse was born to run this race." mister chan nodded and lowered his binoculars "don't mind me, old boy.' like a razor like a razor the dried mustard like a razor i can't emphasize it enough on the inside of a thousand flies of a thousand flies the dried remains of a thousand flies "do you listen to this nonsense all day?" jacques asked his mother. "i'm afraid i don't care to be spoken of in the third person when i'm present," the marquis coldly informed jacques and carlos saw that it wasn't really mister chan at all. meanwhile the horse who was born to win the race you know, that korean chap "yes, i know the fifth race is a sure thing, but which horse in the fifth race, eh? his white handkerchief now faded to gray in the white fog the fizzling sun in the fifth row you don't say i'm afraid i do say madamoiselle tatanya is here sir, at the back door he drawled his white handkerchief the only visible object in the "but didn't you follow him to the window?" "oh don't snap at him, jacques, he's only a child after all." "you told me you moved like a shadow?" "where a child will slap your face they make tea with chili pepper and use gunpowder to kill the taste" he drawled of a thousand bribes he drawed a face on the sidewalk with green chalk in the white fog "emperor or beggar or monk they are all like to me." "naturally i am delighted to see her. have her come to the front door." "number two horse win, mister chan happy, mister sing not so happy." 'where they use rattlesnakes for bodyguards and wildcats watch over them all night long" "tatanya, how nice to see you, my dear. come in, come in, would you like a cigarette?' a drink?" "always, but i'm afraid i'm not properly dressed." "these people wouldn't know style if they were arrested and thrown in a river of it . danny, get tatanya a drink." "how have you been, danny? still suffering from hallucinations?' "it was hector who had hallucinations, mademoiselle. i suffer from dandridge;s syndrome." "of course. excuse me, it's been a long time." "indeed it has." "this fellow has no manners. didn't you teach him any?" "of course but he lost them in old mexico or outer mongolia or wherever he was running around with pancho villa and friedrich engels. " "and how is that an excuse for poor manners?" i'm going back to old mexico with this long long reaching gun chickie couldn't stand it any longer, watching through a crack in the door as callahan tried to chat up miss luna. when they want real excitement they kill each other one by one "you had some excitement earlier? the police were here?" they probably still are here." "so this," thought samantha, "is the famous tatanya. she looks a bit old in her game." "you see, jacques feels unappreciated for his heroic work as a revolutionary." "how do you do." "our love will get us off this island." the fat man on the greyhound bus in the white fog "just a couple of drifters who aspired to the glory of hooligans." "you've sunk quite a bit into this fund, major.' i'm going back to old shanghai where they kill them both night and day the sheriff locks up the empty jailhouse and the judge goes home to pray "what are you doing here, callahan?" "still got those nicotine stains on your fingers, chickie?' "they're custard pie stains." callahan put his coffee cup down. saddle and ride because here in this country they don't kill them fast enough for me