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This message sent Tue, 13 Apr 2004 01:20:35 -0700 by:
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Which is? I said.Leave your bags for now, Bill, Marion said, once we were inside and stamping around in their tiny kitchen. Do you want something to drink?What good is it being married to you? What am I going to leave behind me? A few old hunting trophies and a banged-up Toyota with payments owing.This deserves something high class.Sounds great, I said. Frannie giving you guys redundancy money or something?Don't you see? Don't you get it? he said. Frannie's closing the mill. Says it's uneconomical. But he don't know squat. He never even comes down there any more. So me and a few of the boys, we reckon we can take it off his hands. Gonna call it Copperhead Timber after those big old trout you see down in the river.He did dead-end jobs - cleaning the subway, factory work, night watchman - but he never held them down for long. They'd eventually tire of his late mornings and sick days and fire him. He worked as a slaughter man for a while. We'd meet in Mulligan's for a few Buds,
him smelling of blood, sometimes little flecks of it on his shirt collar.When we got in, Marion tried to put things right.Which is? I said.Sounds great, I said. Frannie giving you guys redundancy money or something?*It's his fortieth in October, she said. I know you know that, Bill. I just wondered if you and Cath could come out. He's had a rough few years and I think it would cheer him up.Marion jumped up. I'll show you.