Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty

I had to walk cautiously.I had to speak in a low voice.Oh, you seasoned crime reporter, you grim old usher, your once-popular policeman, after years of glorifying that intersection in front of the school, now alone Imprisonment, you unfortunate emeritus professor who relies on a boy to read to you!It's not going to work for you guys to fall madly in love with my Lolita, will it?If I were a painter, if the management of "The Possessed Hunters" lost their minds one summer day and commissioned me to redecorate their dining room with a mural of my own creation, here is what I might envision, let me list Make some snippets:

There will be a lake on the mural.Among the fiery red flowers there will be a gazebo.There will be some nature scenes - a tiger chasing a bird of paradise, a suffocating snake fully wrapped around the skinned torso of a piglet.There would be a sultan, with a look of great pain on his face (which arguably didn't match the caresses he was making), helping a young slave with a pretty hip to climb an onyx pillar.There would be those gonad-searing glistening droplets that appeared on the milky sides of the jukebox.There will be various camp activities for intermediate groups: Canoeing, dancing the Courante and brushing your curls in the sun by the lake.There will be poplars and apple trees, a suburban Sunday scene.There would be a fire opal melting in a pool of rippling pools, one last tremor, one last daub, a blinding scarlet, an uncomfortably pink, a sigh, a cowering child.