Posts Tagged ‘beginnings’

Beginnings

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May 12th, 2019 Posted 8:54 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (I know – I promised never to use that word again, but what can you do? It’s a funny word.). As you may know, the Chet and Bernie series can be read in any order. One of the reasons for that is that Chet and Bernie are already together by the time of book 1, DOG ON IT. For how they got together, you have to read the first of the five C&B e-short stories, A CAT WAS INVOLVED. Here’s how it starts:

“Chet—let’s get a move on, buddy.”

Chet? That was me, and getting a move on was my kind of thing. Plus here at K-9 school they were big fans of coming after your name was called—pretty soon after, in fact, if you wanted a treat. Which I always did. But at this particular moment, I had just lifted my leg, and once started in on something like that, there’s really no stopping till it’s over, as you probably know. I’m not referring to the brief leg lift for marking purposes, over and done with in a flash. This was the other kind, much longer-lasting, and often a peaceful break in the day, where the mind can wander in a pleasant sort of—

“Chet!”

I finished up and trotted over to Officer Bobby Torres. Bobby gave me a funny look. I gave him a funny look back. His eyes, dark and watchful, narrowed a bit, and he wrote something on his clipboard. I yawned.

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Beginnings

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May 5th, 2019 Posted 8:40 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (I know – I promised last week never to use that word again, but what can you do? It’s a funny word.). Here’s the start of A FISTFUL OF COLLARS:

“Heard you drove another one off a cliff,” said Nixon Panero. He spat a thin brown stream of chewing tobacco into an empty paint can, or maybe not that empty. Yellow paint, the yellow of egg yolks, now with a brown swirl in the middle: there’s all kinds of beauty in life.

 

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Beginnings

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April 28th, 2019 Posted 10:46 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (this is the very first time I’ve used that word in my whole life! No worries – won’t happen again). Here’s the start of THE SOUND AND THE FURRY:

“One thing’s for sure,” the lawyer said, handing Bernie our check, “you earned every cent.”

Bernie tucked the check in – oh, no – the chest pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, just about his nicest Hawaiian shirt, with the hula dancers and the trombones, but that wasn’t the point. The point was we’d had chest pocket problems in the past, more than once. And possibly more than twice, but I wouldn’t know, since I don’t count past two. What I do know is that checks have a way of falling out of chest pockets.

“What’s he barking about?” the lawyer said.

Bernie glanced at me. “Just wants to get rolling,” he said. That wasn’t it at all: what I wanted was for Bernie to put that check in his front pants pocket where it would be safe. But then I realized that I did kind of want to get rolling. Wow! That was Bernie, knowing my own mind better than I did. And I knew his exactly the same way! Which is just one of the reasons why the Little Detective Agency is so successful, especially if you forget about the finances part. We’re partners. He’s Bernie Little. I’m Chet, pure and simple.

 

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Beginnings: RUFF VS. FLUFF

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April 21st, 2019 Posted 9:00 am

I have the most beautiful voice. I use it to say just one thing: Me-ow! Have you ever heard anything so lovely? And it starts with “me”! How great is that? I love starting with me. In fact, I have no time for anything that doesn’t start with me and keep on going with me right until it ends, with me. Me—or actually ME—is how I think of myself, but you can call me Queenie, like all the other humans. Call me Queenie—but don’t expect me to come, or perform some stupid trick, or pay the slightest attention to you. You have my permission to look at me all you want. I don’t blame you. I’m a thing of beauty.

Probably this is a good moment to describe myself. Where to even start? With my tail? Kind of cool, starting at the end. And I’m cool, no doubt about that. Mom always says, “That Queenie is one cool cat.” Not my mom, who I really don’t remember, but the kids’ mom, who has another name I can’t be bothered to come up with at the moment, and anyway she’s just Mom around these parts.

These parts are what humans call snow country, although we didn’t have any snow yet and it was getting close to Christmas. I knew it was close to Christmas because Elrod hauled a big tree into the Big Room and, after a lot of grunting and fumbling around plus muttered words that won’t be repeated here, got it set up in front of the fireplace. I myself was watching this performance from one of my favorite spots, namely on the top shelf of the bookcase in the corner. Books can be quite comfortable. Were you aware of that already? What do humans actually know? I’m afraid the true answer might disappoint.

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The Books



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