Saturday, October 5, 2024

the last book I ever read (The Knockout Artist by Harry Crews, excerpt six)

from The Knockout Artist by Harry Crews:

They had turned the northern edge of Audubon Park past Loyola and Tulane universities and were headed now toward the zoo and the finish of the five miles they ran every morning. As he always did, when they came into the last quarter-mile, Eugene went up on his toes to sprint and cried, loud enough to turn the head of an old man walking twin poodles: “Balls! Who’s got’m?”

But he knew who had them. Jacques had balls enough for four fighters. And despite the fact that he had already gone over four miles and outweighed Eugene by thirty pounds and had heavy boots on his feet, Jacques began to pull away from him in the sprint to the finish. And he was laughing all the way, his breathing as easy as if he had been walking. Eugene pulled up, leaned over, and put his hands on his knees, gasping. Jacques came to him and put his huge hand on the back of Eugene’s neck.



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