Michael Malone - Weebly

perhaps the only one with a cyclorama of the film Quo
Vadis covering it from grille to fin, a mural that had
been painted years ago by Daytona's friend Habzi
Rabies. With a bleat of his horn, the sculptor kicked
open the door right where a lion gnawed on the legs of
a beatifically indifferent Christian starlet whose arms
stretched up to the roof of the car and so on to heaven.
Mrs. Canopy ran out to greet her friend and hurry
him inside.
Louie Daytona was certainly handsome (as guests
at the Harfleur film premiere on Wednesday had
commented). Six months in prison had, if anything,
improved a physique that was eminently visible in a
tight-fitting blue jumpsuit that had belonged to a
member of an Italian pit crew at Monte Carlo. That
mechanic, like many other brief encounters of both
sexes, had disappeared from Daytona's life and
memory. The shirtless young man currently in his
hearse, with his last-of-the-Mohicans haircut and his
scar from ear to lip, did not look to Tracy's practiced
eye like an artist, but rather (as she later told Evelyn)
like a karate teacher who believed in Charles Manson;