Short and sweet, sometimes an image alone, sometimes a few sentences, then the image. It's all entertainment.
He had worked for the Ninth at one time, the Lower East Side Precinct and lived somewhere down Sixth between C and D. Walked his dog, Esther, every morning, a chihuahua-pit bull mix, and stood on the corner of 7th and B to finish his cigarette. You didn't need to turn on 1010 WINS if he was there, didn't need
Mr. Pinsler knew exactly what happened, or thought he knew. There had been a blinding flash, then a boom, then another flash. The woman, well, her bosoms were momentarily exposed; the material of her blouse having been pulled to one side when she did this kind of uh-uh thing with her hips and, well, kapowie-zowie.
The terminal was crammed as tight as a new pack of cigarettes. From his vantage in the balcony, Belkins was able to see O’ Malley sitting in the Panorama, gun and hat resting on the bar, drinking what looked like a Pina Colada with a little umbrella. For once, O’ Malley couldn’t see him or if he had, was pretending not to notice.
Part of the neighbor's front yard caved in a week earlier then Heffler's porch began slanting in that direction. He couldn't sit in his rocker any longer because it slid. Florence had seen the chair at a Stuckeys in Kingsport, Tennessee and driven it all the way up 81 sticking out the trunk of his Camero. Got pulled by State Troopers twice but didn't get off the Interstate. Paid the
