Henri Rousseau The Dream painting

Henri Rousseau The Dream paintingLaurie Maitland Symphony in Red and Khaki I paintingWilliam Bouguereau Innocence painting
framed by the snugly buttoned yellow collar of his slicker and the drooping yellow brim of his rain hat, Corky’s face must have revealed more of his contempt than he intended.Hokenberry’s bloodshot eyes blurred with self-pity, and his doughy face kneaded itself into more and deeper folds as he said, “I wasn’t always a sorry damn wreck, you know. piss-poor tea.”“That does sound traumatizing,” Corky said, pretending sympathy.“It wasn’t traumatizin’, you ass pimple. What do you think I am, some pansy gets his dainties all puckered just ’cause someone looks at him wrong? I wasn’t traumatized, I was hexed.”Didn’t used to have [354] this gut. Shaved every day, cleaned up real nice. Front lawn used to be green. Bein’ fired by that son of a bitch is what ruined me.”“I thought you said Manheim gave you lots of severance pay?”“That was soul-buyin’ money, I now understand. Anyway, Manheim wasn’t man enough to fire me himself. He had his creepy guru do it.”“Ming du Lac.”“That’s the one. Ming, , which I’m polite enough to drink even if it tastes like piss.”“You’re a gentleman.”“We’re sittin’ at this table surrounded by roses, got this white lace cloth and fancy china—”“Sounds lovely.”“—while he talks at me about gettin’ my spiritual house in order. I’m not just bored shitless, but thinkin’ he’s even a bigger fruitcake than I ever figured, when after fifteen minutes I realize I’m bein’ fired. If he’d made that clear at the start, I wouldn’t have had to drink his