By Christopher Moore
Charlie Asher is a stunning common man with a standard lifestyles, married to a vivid and beautiful lady who truly loves him for his normalcy. They're even approximately to have their first baby. certain, Charlie's doing okay—until humans commence shedding useless round him, and all over he is going a gloomy presence whispers to him from lower than the streets. Charlie Asher, it sort of feels, has been recruited for a brand new place: as loss of life.
It's a grimy task. yet, hiya! Somebody's gotta do it.
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Extra resources for A Dirty Job: A Novel
They wander around, looking for something. I can give them that something. It's the easiest thing in the world, like drinking water from a tap. Before you know it, I've got 'em down. It's what they expect. That's what I mean by possibility. It's all around you. How can you ignore it? " "I don't know, I've never been in a situation like that," I said with a 42 smile. " "Count your blessings," Nagasawa said. His womanizing was the reason Nagasawa lived in a dorm despite his affluent background. Worried that Nagasawa would do nothing else if allowed to live alone in Tokyo, his father had compelled him to live all four years at university in the dormitory.
And mainly, we walked - and walked, and walked. Fortunately, Tokyo is such a big city we could never have covered it all. We kept on walking like this almost every weekend. She would lead, and I would follow close behind. Naoko had a variety of hairslides and always wore them with her right ear exposed. I remember her most clearly this way, from the back. She would toy with her hairslide whenever she felt embarrassed by something. And she was always dabbing at her mouth with a handkerchief. She did this whenever she had something to say.
That's why I read them. If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. That's the world of hicks and slobs. Real people would be ashamed of themselves doing that. Haven't you noticed, Watanabe? You and I are the only real ones in this dorm. " This took me off guard. " "'Cause it's true. I know. I can see it. It's like we have marks on our foreheads. " I did some quick calculating. "But Fitzgerald's only been dead 28 years," I said.
A Dirty Job: A Novel by Christopher Moore