Saturday, May 28, 2011

insurance executive William Goodwin

[retrieved from some Lost New England Stories - someplace in northern ME where their are no town names just numbers like Township 25 - buried in a glass bottle at the bottom of some far away pond, more than a century ago.  Transcribed by ME, and thats why the poor grammar, spelling, fonts etc.  Ha, so there!]

William Goodwin - Willy as he preferred to be called - took a good look at Dobbs.  "Strange", he thought, "Dobbs MUST be human but his face, his face seems to be made from some type of polished leather and that pipe, its always soldered to his teeth."  It was almost painful to look him in the face but you HAD to, it sucked you in.  He had this Pstench too (pronounced with a 'P' because thats the only way he could think to describe it)

Suddenly strange memories of rods searing their way up into his nose and up to the brain, opening some long-closed orifice  allowing him to  'whiffread' this Pstench, his mind was NOT the same after this.  

"Bob" smiled an even bigger smile (how this was possible was beyond imagination)  "Willy" he shrieked, "Willy, you and I need to have a talk.  

[ok, at this point I will need to stop the transcription and get some of what humans call SLEEP, more when I PSee the rest of this story...]
(I call Bulldata on this page)

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