Michael Malone - Weebly

acquainted. Then I'll come to business.
What have you heard about me?"
"Oh, nothing, really."
"Nothing? That's certainly a disappointment. Not
that I'm lively?
Rich? Tennis champion, nineteen twenty-seven?
Mad? At death's door? Smell bad? Nothing? Your dad
never told you I was a senile old reactionary and had no
business on the selectman's board with my hands on the
purse strings and my behind squatting on this poor little
town? Never told you that? Told me that once right to
my face."
"I heard you hadn't been feeling well."
"True. Not since nineteen sixty." She poured out
some more root beer and port.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I, dear. But such is the exorbitancy of that
odious grudge, Life. He charges us too much for his
cheap merchandise." Miss Dingley slapped her knees.
"Useless, the human body. Shoddy parts, bad labor,
worse design." She slapped her wheelchair. "This
machine is better-made."