Big in Japan, Hated in Venezuela 4, The Interlude

Not continued from last week...


This week we take a little break. "A breather," they call it in baseball.


Which is fitting, since this serial is one about baseball.


Or is it? Could that just be a metaphor for the larger tale the story tries to tell?


I suppose the only way to be sure is to keep reading, finding clues, deciphering codes, sleuthing your merry way along with us each week.


But not this week, I'm afraid.



disclaimer:

Thus doesn't goeth the serial. Or something.

What is up with the New England weather? Where is the New England of my youth, which was, by all accounts, the most perfect of perfect places?

I feel like my face is melting. Which it may be, I haven't checked a mirror recently, and, frankly, I'm scared to do so. And there's only so many times you can truck out the old, "If you don't like the weather in New England, wait a minute" line before you wind up dead in a ditch, the victim of an angry Clare girl in a bikini and her very short sidekick in a very fashionable little one piece wife-beater sort of thing. And no one will know it's me for a couple weeks, because my face will have melted, and it takes a lot longer to determine someone's identity based on their dental records than television would have you believe.

Nor would they be able to identify me by my knees, which are presently home to one of them new MacBook Pros, which are lovely machines, if they run a bit hot. Not that they have the tests, yet, to identify bodies by their knees. So far as I know. It's not something I've been researching for my latest book or anything. Maybe I should be. I think Will Murphy did some research on it, for a Fob Jones novel, an attempted sequel to Curious, a novel.

I'll have to ask him about it, since he's never around the office these days.

So the residents of New England, including the newly moved Sane Magazine staff, are experiencing a little empathetic exercise with those lobsters from Maine when they're shoved into pots of water... with the humidity more likely than not bound to inspire yet more Aquaman dreams for yours truly, in which I'm the prince of the undersea, himself. In which he has to go off and rescue Clare girls in bikinis, who happen to also be underwater, in boiling seas (which explains the bikinis instead of, say, a one piece, or arctic parka or something). And he's helped, along the way, by smiling and laughing lobsters, though what they're laughing at, no one can be sure (though they can guess).

So the lesson to be learned, folks, is that that grass you may be seeing on the other side of the fence may, in fact, be just a lagoon, with a lot of oxygen-rich algae clogging up the waterways. And it may be a nice spot for fishing or it may not, I never did enough fishing as a kid to really be able to tell you that.

Oh, and if the Clare girl and sidekick don't get me, if I don't show up next week for Sane, it may have been the dragon fly.

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A Book: Fenway Fiction

Don't hurt any one else out there, yo.

If you had feelings about this week's issue, be sure to let us know how you felt. If your feeling isn't covered here... well, I guess you're stuck, then, aren't you?
Liked it.
Didn't like it.
Would have liked more references to bats.
I'd rather be boiled in vinegar.

Also, we'd like your take on the now missing Summary Feature (email subscribers can still access the summary for the current week's issue only and you can sign up here). How do you feel about the (now gone) summary feature on each issue?
I miss it.
Didn't use it.
What summary, you mean I can get away with reading less?
Don't miss it at all.



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19 Jun, 2006

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