St. Vitus' DanceDear Salon:Last week Salon published a hilarious essay by Carlos Amantea, "A Persistent Old Fart with St. Vitus' Dance." I meant to print it out but didn't, and of course now it's gone to wherever such pieces go. Is there a possibility that you folks might e-mail me a copy or give me some alternate route to obtain same?
In your debt in advance, I am,
--- John Brookes
jbrookes@pacific.net§ § §
John:Here's the url for the story you're looking for:
http://www.salon.com/people/feature/
2002/02/01/
geezer11/index.htmlGlad you enjoyed it.--- Ruth Henrich
Associate Managing Editor
www.salon.com§ § § Ruth:Thanks. I'm in your debt. Here's one for you (though not Salon I dare say):
John was dying. His wife, Linda, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber.
He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly. "My darling Linda," he whispered.
"Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh, don't talk."
He was insistent. "Linda," he said in his tired voice, "I have something I must confess to you."
"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Linda. "Everything's all right, go to sleep."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Linda. I ... I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your Mother!"
"I know," Linda whispered softly. "That's why I poisoned you."