Michael Malone - Weebly

three months' parole from school and already bored,
with his wife, June, locked up with another migraine,
with his colleague Coleman Sniffell in a (if possible)
more than typically rotten mood, still, Hayes could
boast, he was not drinking. He was smoking, gulping
coffee, sucking cough drops, chewing pencils, and
feeling all his fillings with his tongue. He was twisting his
hair, biting at his cuticles, picking at his ears, and rolling
his book pages between his fingers. But he wasn't
drinking.
The Dingley Day was a misnomer; the paper had
ceased daily publication in 1931. Even weekly now, it
filled no more than two dozen pages. They included not
only summarily treated national affairs, but those
communal reports closer to the hearts and purses of
Dingleyans—PROPERTY TAX HIKE LOOMS.
BATTLE WAGED TO SAVE FALLS BRIDGE.
VOLUNTEER FIREMEN DEMAND NEW HOSES
. And there were personals ("Please give me a home. I
am a perky kitten with lots of personality and no tail").
And more than anything else, there were
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