Michael Malone - Weebly

"You mean Art."
"You got his name. So, okay, it's a horse race, but
look at you.
You got in for a buck and you come away with a
bundle. You don't need the jack, put those things in a
museum, get a good tax man to work on it with you.
Oh, when I opened that door! Bootiful!
Bootiful! I cried, I'm gonna tell you that, I cried."
On his dancing way to the mantel to see his friend's
canvas, Fingerpaint on a Widow's Fur, over which he
shook his head, Daytona swooped a book off the
butler's table. "Hey, I know this guy. Nice guy. Real
nice." In his hand was Mrs. Canopy's copy of Poetry
Sucks!, on its back cover, the laughing, tawny-bearded
author, Richard Rage.
"Oh, my, is he , Louie? Is he nice?" She caught the
sculptor's arm.
"If you don't mind, I have the most vital reasons for
wanting to be sure. Do you think he's a good man?"
Daytona looked down, puzzled at the round,
earnest, bespectacled eyes. "Hey now, doll. Sure thing.
They don't make 'em any nicer. Him and you got