By Stephen King
As soon as upon a time, a fellow named Richard Bachman wrote Blaze on an Olivetti typewriter, then grew to become the computing device over to Stephen King, who used it to jot down Carrie. Bachman died in 1985 ("cancer of the pseudonym"), yet this final gripping Bachman novel resurfaced after being hidden away for many years -- an unforgettable crime tale tinged with unhappiness and suspense. Clayton Blaisdell, Jr., was once regularly a small-time antisocial. None too brilliant both, because of the beatings he received as a child. Then Blaze met George Rackley, a professional seasoned with 100 cons and one enormous notion. the abduction should still burst off and not using a hitch, with George because the brains at the back of their harmful scheme. yet there's just one challenge: by the point the deal is going down, Blaze's accomplice in crime is useless. Or is he? features a formerly uncollected tale, "Memory" -- the riveting beginning to Stephen King's new Scribner hardcover novel, Duma Key.
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Extra info for Blaze: A Novel
We're all going to do it. " "Well said, Ann," Kezzy approved. " the skeleton cackled. " I patted her on the shoulder. Then she walked over, got down on her knees, and got to it. Hannah was already going a mile a minute, and her guy was making noises like a cowboy at a rodeo. Mole Face grinned and flexed his boner for me. Fuck. I just leaned over and started sucking. It was awful, pathetic, and ridiculous: three 19-year-old girls blowing really old men. Of course, my guy's crotch stunk, but by then I was cauterized to it.
But, you know, that's another thing you constantly notice when you're fat. The slim, beautiful people can stuff their faces all they want and never gain an ounce, but me? If I eat, like, one candy bar, I put on five fuckin' pounds before I'm even done eating the motherfucker. Anyway, here's how the deal went for the next four days. " The Old Manning on that second night was nothing compared to what Kezzy had in store for us, and she wasn't kidding when she said the rest would be "exponentially worse" than blowing those old turds at the American Legion.
I got the Great Dane. Mercy and Hannah kind of went into shock just looking at these dogs, but I set an example, I guess. It's a state of mind, I told myself. I just had to get into that state, and then I could do anything. No way in a million years would I have even thought about doing something like this a week ago. But now? The carrot Kezzy was dangling in front of me was my fuckin' inheritance. I was not going to throw in the towel now. doing it to the Great Dane. His name was George, by the way, and he was a big ass dog.