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Quote by Darnell Lamont Walker

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Darnell Lamont Walker

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“At Rachel's instruction, the monkey briefly looked to his mistress, then looked back at Elliot and raised his hand. "Hey." "That's not the way, Haley. That's how you greet people we're close to." Realizing his mistake, Haley got up, pointed out his butt toward Elliot, and slapped it. " Get lost, okay?" "That's not right either, now is it? Look closely before you greet him." Haley scrutinized Elliot. Then he thrust his thumbs into his ears, fanned out his wriggling fingers, and stuck out his wagging tongue. "Dummy, dummy." "I'm sorry, Your Highness", Rachel apologized. "He's having trouble learning tricks, it seems.”

“It rained for four days and four nights, hard. Aniline wasn’t used to it. At first in the neighborhoods, ditches adjacent to the streets handled the flood. The water finished filling the ditches and hid the potholes in the roads. Rain then brimmed the streets over, making Aniline into Venice. It eventually spread out in the low spots in the driveways, invaded lawns, and crept up towards the house foundations. People wandered into the café with squelching boots and comments ranging from philosophical to querulous. Then the weather broke. They had two intensely hot days. Banks of mist rose off the saturated yards and fields. The roads drained, and a blanket of mud covered the pavements. As if all this wasn’t enough, a super-cell thunderstorm rolled towards them to give them another taste of violent Texas weather.”

“Women and men in scrubs swept into the room and checked the monitors and the bags. They strode out, nodded at the quartet slumped in chairs against the wall, and scuffed down the hall. Nurses changed shifts, moved the life of the place along while patients and visitors waited frozen, locked into little boxes of concern and fear. The strange hours of the pre-dawn arrived, when the hospital hushed even as the business of sickness and death ground on.”

“He took himself off to bed. He wasn’t going to sit there and wait for an answer like he had sent e-mail to God. God didn’t exist, but he prayed regardless that all this would be gone in the morning. This had to be a glitch in the computer or in his mind. Maybe he had experienced a small stroke. Or maybe he was drunk, on a single glass. He had made a mistake with the drink—with it in his blood, he couldn’t take the Prozac. That could be the best explanation…some cross between whiskey and yesterday’s Prozac. He lay in the dark, up in the rafters of the sky, waiting for sleep. Somewhere around four, he dropped off and dreamt of panicked birds flying up out of trees.”