Since Swaggart had once observed this effeminate dandy of a pediatrician single-handedly taking down six armed Shijain rajputs--bare-handed--he decided it was best to invite him along, and to be damn polite about it, too.
It was a little girl, petite and short, with large, luminous green eyes and soft brown hair braided and twined at the back of her head around a pair of what at first appeared to be hair sticks, but which on a second glance proved to be stilettos.
Rags arched her back, slid forward on her knees, ducked the Taser, and then promptly rolled into a handstand and, with both legs, kicked Sanders in the stomach, sending him flying across the room.
Nicky reached the end of the alley, leapt an open sewer ditch, crashed noisily into a row of parked motorcycles, and then almost veered into a zebu cow sleeping in the middle of the street.
The feel of a windowpane shattering against his skull woke Nicky back up.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The following are random, recently penned sentences from the rough draft of Rag & Muffin, my work in progress: