Guys and Dolls
I have grown mighty tired of books written for children. Magic Treehouse, I love you, but I just can't read any more saccharine escapist fantasies involving magic wands and wizards.
So MJ and I have switched Jane's bedtime reading to something edgier.
Damon Runyon's Omnibus, in fact.
This decision has not been without consequences.
Tonight, while we are eating dinner, MJ asks Jane about a new teacher at school. What's she like? Is she tall or short? Mean or nice? Old or young?
"I will give you a hint," Jane says, in a tone that I can only call Runyonesque. "She is not young."
And I realize that, in Runyon's sentences, "you moron" is the perpetual unspoken subordinate clause.
*
If I have all the tears that are shed on Broadway by guys in love, I will have enough salt water to start an opposition ocean to the Atlantic and Pacific, with enough left over to run the Great Salt Lake out of business. But I wish to say I never shed any of these tears personally, because I am never in love, and furthermore, barring a bad break, I never expect to be in love, for the way I look at it love is strictly the old phedinkus, and I tell the little guy as much. -- Damon Runyon
Labels: jane
posted by Diane @ 4:04 PM
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