Michael Malone - Weebly

crap much longer since apparently he was going to lose
this goddamn sneaky war with cancer no matter how
hard he fought.
Still, he'd been lucky and lived a good long life and
done the state some service, whether they knew it or
not. And having loosed with that dangerous innocence
so foreign to Thomas Svatopluk an instrument of
destruction far more sophisticated than himself, that
bomb he called his honey and his sweetheart and his
baby, away Commander Brickhart flew into night.
On the land from which the secret of Operation
Archangel was now being removed (along with
abundant beech, birch, cedar, sycamore, and other
natural things), there had once lived, in a harmoniously
heartless life struggle, abundant deer, bears, wolves,
foxes, otters, beavers, minks, raccoons, and other
wildlife that was, as William Bredforet used to say of
the old great fortunes, "all gone now." Indeed, their
pelts had gone to make those fortunes in the shapes of
hats, gloves, rugs, collars, and coats. Little but the
unprofitable porcupine had not been stolen for a stole.
The profligate rabbit had also survived, and the skunk,