go sit before your desk without a pen, without paper, without words even. Reach into your heart and pull out your own Colonel Parker from inside you, open your jaws, gnash him down, let him be pulped in your guts and ejected as shit—that’s right, erupt!—and bring that to me smeared on a page!” And from the first word to the last of this monolog the young and talented Marcus Ahearn would have been staring at my face, his doll’s eyes shining, although at that moment, exercised as I was, I couldn’t have noticed. In all likelihood this was the day I slammed the classroom’s door behind me, sailed
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