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Show Flying - 124 red and ugly over the hills. "That man will drive me right up the fucking wall," he says to O'Connell. "The next time he tells me I've got to learn to think for myself I'll pick up a wrench and brain the son of a bitch with it. You got to get me out of there, Joe, or I swear I'll kill him." "Don't lose your cool, baby," says O'Connell. "We'll blast you out, if we have to." Or I could go AWOL, shoot myself in the foot, pretend insanity, throw up after every meal, or even slash my wrists, like my good friend Tex. Fat as a blood-swollen tick the red moon hangs heavy above the hills, outlining the crooked shapes of trees. My God this fucking land is ugly. Tall grass that slashes at you and draws blood when you try to walk through it. Lakes made of sand. Cactus as big as trees. Spiders the size of tennis balls hiding in the grass. Ready to leap. |