from Fast Friends

from Fast Friends from Fast Friends I Morning, late June, 1998. to the famous TransAm pyramid, Ernest is sitting at his desk, staring without focus at the recessed light fixtures above him and forward a In his new office on the edge of San Francisco's financial district, next little--the ones that would illumine the first person to whom he could offer his services, his hand as a Professional Friend. He is thinking about what T. D. said the last time they saw each other, at lunch at the Watergate. He is thinking about the word siugs. By now there is no name for the huge oppressed class whose only task is to consume; almost no one thinks of social class at all. So slug keeps reappearing, drifting into his mind as he sits at his desk killing time. Slugs. Somehow he never thought about it just that way before. Slug. The taps come so soft he first thinks he has imagined them; but they repeat. His heart flies around in his chest as he calls forth his voice. Come in. The person who whips through the doorway seems to be not more than four and a half feet tall, from his http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

from Fast Friends

The Missouri Review, Volume 7 (2) – Oct 5, 1984

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

from Fast Friends I Morning, late June, 1998. to the famous TransAm pyramid, Ernest is sitting at his desk, staring without focus at the recessed light fixtures above him and forward a In his new office on the edge of San Francisco's financial district, next little--the ones that would illumine the first person to whom he could offer his services, his hand as a Professional Friend. He is thinking about what T. D. said the last time they saw each other, at lunch at the Watergate. He is thinking about the word siugs. By now there is no name for the huge oppressed class whose only task is to consume; almost no one thinks of social class at all. So slug keeps reappearing, drifting into his mind as he sits at his desk killing time. Slugs. Somehow he never thought about it just that way before. Slug. The taps come so soft he first thinks he has imagined them; but they repeat. His heart flies around in his chest as he calls forth his voice. Come in. The person who whips through the doorway seems to be not more than four and a half feet tall, from his

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 1984

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