"I'm the E Block super - the head screw. You want something from me, ask for me by name. If I'm not here, ask this other, man - his name is Harry Terwilliger. Or you ask for Mr. Stanton or Mr. Howell. Do you understand that?"Coffey nodded."Just don't expect to get what you want unless we decide it's what you need - this isn't a hotel. Still with me?"He nodded again."This is a quiet place, big boy - not like the rest of the prison. It's just you and Delacroix over there. You won't work; mostly you'll just sit. Give you a chance to think things over." Too much time for most of them, but I didn't michael kors online outlet say that. "Sometimes we play the radio, if all's in order. You like the radio?"He nodded, but doubtfully, as if he wasn't sure what the radio was. I later found out that was true, in a way; Coffey knew things when he encountered them again, but in between he forgot. He knew the characters on Our Gal Sunday, but had only the haziest memory of what they'd been up to the last time."If you behave, you'll eat on time, you'll never see the solitary cell down at the far end, or have to wear one of those canvas coats that buttons up the back. You'll have two hours in the yard afternoons from four until six, except on Saturdays when the rest of the prison population has their flag football games. You'll have your visitors on Sunday afternoons, if you have someone who wants to visit you. Do you, Coffey?"He shook his head. "Got none, boss," he said.'Well, your lawyer, then!'"I believe I've seen the back end of him," he said. "He was give to me on loan. Don't believe he could find his way up here in the www.michaelkorsoutlet-christmas.com mountains!'I looked at him closely to see if he might be trying a little joke, but he didn't seem to be.
After that, we got used to seeing the mouse sitting beside Delacroix, holding a mint and munching away on it just as neatly as an old lady at an afternoon tea-party, both of them surrounded by what I later smelled in that hole in the beam - the half-bitter, half-sweet smell of peppermint candy.There's one more thing to tell you about Mr. Jingles before moving on to the arrival of William Wharton, which was when the cyclone really touched down on E Block. A week or so after the incident of the peppermint candies - around the time when we'd pretty much decided Delacroix wasn't going to feed his pet to death, in other words - the Frenchman called me down to his cell. I was on my own for the time being, Brutal over at the commissary for something, and according to the regs, I was not supposed to approach a prisoner in such circumstances. But since I probably could have shot-putted Delacroix twenty yards one-handed on gucci outlet online a good day, I decided to break the rule and see what he wanted."Watch this, Boss Edgecombe," he said. "You gonna see what Mr. Jingles can do!" He reached behind the cigar box and brought up a small wooden spool."Where'd you get that?" I asked him, although I supposed I knew. There was really only one person he could have gotten it from."Old Toot-Toot," he said. 'Watch this."I was already watching, and could see Mr.
From the porch, it was impossible to tell their sexes, but I thought they were boy and girl. Maybe even twins, which cast an interesting sort of light on their father's part, peripheral as it had been, in the Coffey trial. Nearer at hand, set like an island in the middle of louis vuitton outlets a turdstudded patch of bare, beatup-looking ground, was a doghouse. No sign of Fido; it was another unseasonably hot day, and I guessed he was probably inside, snoozing."Burt, yew-all got you a cump'ny," Mrs. Hammersmith said."Allright," he said. He glanced at me, glanced at his wife, then looked back at his kids, which was where his heart obviously lay. He was a thin man - almost painfully thin, as if he had just begun to recover from a serious illness - and his hair had started to recede. His wife touched his shoulder tentatively with one of her red, wash-swollen hands. He didn't look at it or reach up to touch it, and after a moment she took it back. It occurred to me, fleetingly, that they looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife - he'd gotten the brains, she'd gotten the looks, but neither of them had escaped some underlying resemblance, a heredity that could never be escaped. Later, going home, I realized they didn't look alike at all; what made them seem to was the aftermath of stress and the lingering of sorrow. It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family.She said, "Yew-all want a cold drink, Mr. - ?""It's Edgecombe," I said. "Paul Edgecombe. And thank you. A cold drink would be wonderful, ma'am."She went back inside. I held out my hand to Hammersmith, who gave it a brief shake.
Near the end, though, it began to be really difficult louis vuitton outlet online to hold onto that thought - you know how it is, with a noise that's repeated over and over. After a while it shoots your nerve. I started to speak after all, then something made me look over my shoulder and out the cell door. John Coffey was standing at his cell door across the way, and he shook his head at me: right, left, back to center. As if he had read my mind and was telling me to think again.I would see that Mr. Jingles got to Delacroix's maiden aunt, I said, the one who had sent him the big bag of candy. His colored spool could go as well, even his "house" - we'd take up a collection and see that Toot gave up his claim on the Corona box. No, said Delacroix after some consideration (he had time to throw the spool against the wall at least five times, with Mr. Jingles either nosing it back or pushing it with his paws), that wouldn't do. Aunt Hermione was too old, she wouldn't understand Mr. Jingles's frisky ways, and suppose Mr. Jingles outlived her? What would gucci handbags happen to him then? No, no, Aunt Hermione just wouldn't do.Well, then, I asked, suppose one of us took it? One of us guards? We could keep him right here on E Block. No, Delacroix said, he thanked me kindly for the thought, certainement, but Mr. Jingles was a mouse that yearned to be free. He, Eduard Delacroix, knew this, because Mr. Jingles had - you guessed it - whispered the information in his ear."All right," I said, "one of us will take him home, Del.
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