George Mills (2010)
“Laglichio asked in the inner city, in the ghetto, by the projects, in line of sight but out of earshot of twenty or so dangerous-looking blacks. “Did you call him?”
“Maybe he already went in to serve the papers.”
“You see a patrol car, George?”
“Hand them over. I’ll serve them myself.”
“Make a citizen’s arrest, will you, George? Going to serve Xeroxes on these people? Going to show them carbon copies, flat, smooth seals like a sketch of the sunrise? They don’t read, George, just rub the paper t...o feel if it’s embossed. They live by a Braille law in this neighborhood.
“I like my work,” Laglichio said. They were leaning against the truck’s front fender. Laglichio seemed a changed man this morning. Not, George thought, because of his high spirits or even his rusty patience. He seemed, Mills thought, interested, expansive. “Not all of us can be bombardiers,” Laglichio said, “or sit by the machine gun on the penitentiary watchtower. We can’t all be turnkeys, and the state ain’t juiced no one in donkey’s years.MoreLess
“Maybe he already went in to serve the papers.”
“You see a patrol car, George?”
“Hand them over. I’ll serve them myself.”
“Make a citizen’s arrest, will you, George? Going to serve Xeroxes on these people? Going to show them carbon copies, flat, smooth seals like a sketch of the sunrise? They don’t read, George, just rub the paper t...o feel if it’s embossed. They live by a Braille law in this neighborhood.
“I like my work,” Laglichio said. They were leaning against the truck’s front fender. Laglichio seemed a changed man this morning. Not, George thought, because of his high spirits or even his rusty patience. He seemed, Mills thought, interested, expansive. “Not all of us can be bombardiers,” Laglichio said, “or sit by the machine gun on the penitentiary watchtower. We can’t all be turnkeys, and the state ain’t juiced no one in donkey’s years.MoreLess
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