Post Mortem

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July 19th, 2017 Posted 8:44 am

Admin: How was yesterday’s BOW WOW appearance at Eight Cousins Books?

Spence: Lots of kids, and none of them threw anything! Therefore: success! Not only that, but one of the kids, maybe ten years old, already knew lots about bull sharks.

Admin: Relevant since there’s a bull shark named Mr. Nice Guy in the story. Spoiler alert: he’s not nice. Did you bore the kids with tales of your spearfishing days in the Bahamas?

Spence: Boredom’s a big part of life. Gotta prepare them!

Unknown-7

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Today at 4!

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July 18th, 2017 Posted 8:20 am

Spence will be at Eight Cousins Books – 189 Main St., Falmouth, on beautiful Cape Cod – today at 4. This is all about BOW WOW, book 3 in the Bowser and Birdie series. Middle-grade but adults with fake ID are reading them, too. (Spence will be checking ID.)

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Random Amazon Review We Like

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July 17th, 2017 Posted 8:28 am

5.0 out of 5 stars – Excellent – July 12, 2017.
 
Kindle Customer on THE RIGHT SIDE:
It is such a pleasure to read a well written book. Exquisite. I didn’t want to put it down and I didn’t want it to end but I wanted to know what happened. Such a rare conundrum in this era of editorial – phobia.
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The Bike Lesson Scene from THE RIGHT SIDE

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July 16th, 2017 Posted 9:01 am

“Is it illegal?” LeAnne said.

“Illegal under the law, no,” said Katie. “But taboo. Taboo is stronger than the law, as maybe you don’t know in America.”

“I actually don’t know that,” LeAnne said.

“Pah,” said Katie. “Laws can be changed. That is the difference.”

“Uh-huh,” LeAnne said. “Tuck your pant legs into your socks.”

“Why ever would I want to do that?”

“So you don’t get caught in the chain and go ass over teakettle.” LeAnne rolled the bike next to Katie, sized things up, took a wrench and lowered the seat as far as it would go.

“Ass over teakettle? I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do.”

“But why teakettle?”

“It’s just what we say.”

“The expression is vulgar,” Katie said. She tucked the hems of her slacks – black, of nice-looking fabric and cut – into the tops of her socks. Per LeAnne’s orders, she was wearing sneakers – the first time LeAnne had seen her in anything other than heels or city-type boots. The sneakers, white on white, looked like they’d just come out of the box.

“Hands on the grips,” LeAnne said, keeping the bike steady. “Swing your leg over. Sit.”

“This is not comfortable.”

“Feet on the pedals. Not like that.”

“My feet are on the pedals.”

“Balls of your feet.”

“Balls of my feet. You are very dictatorial, you realize, in fact reminiscent of … “

“Of who?”

Katie shook her head.

“Out with it,” said LeAnne. “When I’m insulted I like to hear the payoff.”

“Of … of certain family members.”

“You’re talking about members of your family?”

“But who on this earth has a perfect family?” Katie said. “Now will you give me a push?”

LeAnne gave Katie a push. She wobbled forward.

“Faster! Pedal faster.”

Katie peddled faster, got the wobbling under control. She rode across the hard-packed dirt of the compound as far as the razor-wire topped wall, turned unsteadily, and came back, picking up speed – actually much too much speed.

“I am riding! I am riding!”

(Chetspeak returns next Sunday.)

 

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