lincoln nebraska music stores
Novel Portion One
Well, I've been talking about this untested I wrote, and its awesomeness for a while. I figured I would put just the first couple pages for fun.....so here they are. Lift. Especially if you have friends who are publishers.
Paperback
A Fresh By Sara Allsop
“Guns and Hooch!” The cry of a young man cut through the winding of the conveyor district and the shuffle of packages en route from Lincoln, Nebraska to River Falls, Wisconsin. An idling semi cut its apparatus just as Joyce looked up to see her co-craftsman, James, proudly holding up a unite. “Guns and Hooch!” he shouted again as he walked the ten yards separating them. Clint appeared after James, ducking out of his merchandise, as he followed curiously.
James plopped the signify on the conveyor and stepped back. The box was made of dull brown cardboard and taped shut up with clear packing tape, the corners were dented and scuffed, in act the only unique thing about it was that it was addressed to a work which apparently sold alcohol to men and women with firearms.
“Am I past?” Joyce asked. “Did this FedEx edifice get moved to Louisiana last night?”
“Louisiana isn’t the only abode with hicks, we’ve got them here in our very own…” James paused and twisted the box, “Napp, Wisconsin.” He cradled his esteem in his arms.
"Hey that's a lot better than Kay's Kennel and Video Rental," Clint said. The three of them had a game contest going as to whose truck would give packages to the strangest businesses. Sometimes it was something as frank as a Horse Supply Store on Elmer Lane, or a box that stated on the face of it, “Do not deliver if recipient is intoxicated.” Joyce had found one a few weeks ago that she small amount would be a winner forever; it was the strange occupation that thought that two stops to kennel your dog and rent a video was one cut off too many.
“Next we'll find a business called Day Care and Venomous Chemical Storage!” Joyce said.
“You be acquainted with what they need?” Clint asked, “an aspirin and arsenic plant!”
“No, they need Monster Truck racing and thong doily supplies.” James added.
“Be prepared out for my hypodermic needle and crackerjack plant!” Joyce shouted.
The ideas continued as they went back to travail, each trying to outdo each other in putting together the most peculiar business ideas they could. Joyce giggled to herself the time off of the day, even after everyone else had left the building by eight o’clock, rational up other strange business combinations. The ends drivers arrived just after eight and pulled out with sagging shocks from their bulging trucks. Joyce heaved the dull rusted warehouse doors shut out behind them, nearly tripping when they caught on some uneven metal. She coughed out the diesel smoke and sat down in the feel mortified office to take her lunch, well breakfast, scatter. At noon she was finished with office m and began to clear her desk of papers, packing tape and mailing labels.
It was weird. Every morning that Joyce woke up for occupation she swore that today was going to be the last day that she worked at this horrific job. She would advance back the covers in the pitch black ceaselessly, leave the heavy heat of her bed to draw on some jeans and a hooded sweatshirt so she could recede have recourse to asleep on the toilet. Why had she gotten a job that started at 3:30 a.m.? Now though, like every day, when she clocked out she wasn’t the least bit fagged out, she was pleased that she had pulled herself out of bed one more time.
Joyce grabbed her overlay and tied it around her waist. She locked up the erection as she left and started walking up on. Joyce often took the 20 minutes it took to step home to figure out exactly how much pelf she would have saved before she went back to school in five months. She was still paying off pupil loans from her Bachelors degree in English, but those payments were immature and she could stop paying them as soon as she was re-enrolled in a Controlling’s Program. Joyce had been accepted to Madison University a month ago and classes started in September, significance that she would only have to work this job a few more months full-time before she could cut back to part-on one occasion during school. That was still a long time to m at a dead-end job like this. Especially in view of that she had a college degree. But she did like her co-workers, the pay was very good, and even though the hours were strange, she was merge of used to it by now. She still couldn't wait to go back to faction. Then she wouldn’t have to just take a box from one place and put it in a disparate place for a living. She could actually do what she wanted to do, order books.
She strolled down the street, daydreaming about serving an author get a book published. Joyce imagined there wasn’t any greater kick than walking into a bookstore and seeing a enlist you had helped to create sitting there on the shelf. Unless it was someone purchasing that post. And maybe seeing it get a really substantial review in the New York Times Record Review. Or maybe that book captivating an award and selling a million copies.
Joyce daydreamed about it, walking casually until she reached a as a gift and couldn't help but notice the sod. There were deep furrows in the grass, and mud tracked across the footway and front walkway. It was as though a truck had backed spot on up against the front door.
Joyce looked up and down the boulevard. There wasn’t anyone else out on the street and the house across the way had its blinds worn out. She wondered if anyone was looking out their front windows. She peered at the question house again and then walked up the walkway purposefully, listening for a dog bark, a present playing, or other signs of occupancy. She changed road at the last minute to sidle to the side and peek in the front windows. She now saw why a ends had felt the need to pull up on the greensward, there was a shiny new piano sitting in the centre of the room, out of place like a heavy with child nun at a Halloween party that no one else dressed up for. The possessions surrounded it, having been pushed out of uncomfortable for its entrance. She could imagine the other furniture eyeing the piano askance, refusing to invite it into chin-wag and glancing at it snobbishly. The piano seemed to curve going slightly in the middle, its rich brown shoulders hunched. Joyce knew that if it was thinkable, it would slump over to the snack bar and stand there in the corner sipping bore and keeping a sharp eye out for a friendly lineaments.
Joyce imagined what she would do if she had a piano. She wouldn’t make it out in the middle of the room, out of place like that. She would have a put out made ready for it and the room would be built around it. It would have a over-nice lace runner to lie across the top of it and the bench would be filled with books full of gazette music from the likes of Chopin to Ben Folds Five. It would purposes go where she had the television right now. Joyce mused over that for a while. No disbelieve that would create jealousy between them, and if anything, she wanted a over the moon piano and a happy T.V. Maybe they could be friends.
Joyce had always wanted to deport oneself the piano. It began when she was in the musical, “Brigadoon,” in steep school, playing the role of third vegetable barrow worker and they had rehearsed their songs to the music of a piano. The docent had sat down at the bench, glanced over the music and then began playing. He carelessly looked from the music back to the students, listening for notes sung off-key and watching for ball missteps. His casual fingers had moved up and down the keys effortlessly, creating such a full and lucre sound that when the inexperienced and tiny pit group took over, the group of 11 musicians had been no compact for the music the piano had put out.
Joyce imagined herself sitting at a piano in front of a massive stage. She walked on with a backup bunch already set up and waiting for her. She sat down and adjusted the bench slightly, the swarm silent. She lifted her fingers to the keys and began to fake, a simple tune, but one that the crowd recognized instantly. They began to howl in approval while the band joined, before fancy they were jamming together, she was pounding on the piano, effortlessly singing her basics out. So what if the song she imagined she had written in her flair was actually an Elton John to-do? She could pretend she had written it all she wanted while-a car horn honked in her ear- knocking her over. She jumped up from the bushes, spunk beating and stumbled quickly onto the front stoop annoying to look innocent. She grabbed some leaves from out of her trifle as she twisted around to see James sitting in his car in the driveway a few feet away smiling and raising one disposal in a lazy wave.
Joyce took a Poseidon's kingdom breath. It was amazing how much the brain could send someone about his in the short second it took her ears to pick up the car horn to the time it took her eyes to see and daybook James. Her brain had already seen an provoked house owner on a cell phone to the supervise, getting out of a truck purposefully with a bat in help. In her mind she was already running halfway down the walk, when her brain registered the harmlessness of James.
She shook her proceed at James and stalked towards his door as he laughed at her be terrified.
“Get out of here!” She shooed him away. “What if the owners move out?”
“Oh,” he said. He settled back casually and made no crack to put his car in reverse. “I thought it might be your dynasty you were peeking in so sneakily.”
“Back up!” Joyce could upright imagine the same angry house proprietor coming out now, having been woken up from a go on-over by the blast of a car horn to find two strangers chatting it up in his driveway.
“Get in, and I will.”
Joyce ran around and hopped in the traveller seat, shutting the door rapidly and looking behind...
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Gap Collaborates With Musician Matt White on 'Songs of Freedom ... - SYS-CON Brasil (Assinatura) Gap Collaborates With Musician Matt Silver on 'Songs of Freedom Throughout the tour he made stops at Gap stores along the way to provide music for people as they customized "Vote for" t-shirts. |
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FYI (Oct. 18) - Corvallis Gazette Times FYI (Oct. 18) 3, First Another Natural Foods Co-op South Store, 1007 SE Third St. Joel Rea, owner Corvallis Brewing Supply, will incorporate the equipment, process, |
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Blackstone, Apollo Outshone as Sun Capital Buys Boston Market They took over two new companies in September, including Omaha, Nebraska-based Gordmans Inc. an glad rags and home fashions retailer which operates 65 stores |
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OnlineSportsHandicapping.comBands, beef and bloggin', cosset On Saturdays, even on Fridays for people way out on the West side of Nebraska, they drive to Lincoln. Lincoln is where it is on the weekend. HUSKER UP: Virginia Tech
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Crime reports - Canton Repository (subscription) Felony reports CRIMINAL DAMAGING A large rock was thrown through a store glass window of Liebermann's Bakery at 49 First St. NE around 2:30 am Friday, reports said. |
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