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A Writer with Style

     "Halfass led the way. In somber pace, he carried a gigantic floral spray, a spray nearly six feet high, festooned with every flower known to man, every bloom, every petal, every bud you could name as long as it was dead, as long as it had fried somewhere in a florist's garbage can for a month or maybe three, the colors bleached away, the blossoms limp and flat.
     "Nobody moved, nobody took a breath. They simply stood and watched as this unholy pair made their way across the dry and brittle grass toward Bob the waiter's grave. There they would deliver this last insult, this final affront, this closing gesture of contempt. Pound was telling everyone there, everyone who would hear, he could do whatever he wanted, do anything he liked."

--Skinny Annie Blues by Neal Barrett Jr

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