<p>Chapter 15</p><p>Friday, April 30, 1999</p><p>"Wake up, Ethan," I had a dream.</p><p>Ethan turned his head and saw Brian Sun Easlon holding a catchers mitt and a baseball in the lit hallway.</p><p>"Huh?" asked Ethan, half-asleep in an empty bed.</p><p>"Eat a quick breakfast and let's go!"</p>
<p>Chapter 14</p><p>Thursday, April 28, 1999</p><p>Ethan Lee awoke of his own accord at five in the morning. Lulu had not been around in days and he wondered where she'd been as he watched the county awaken from his porch top view.</p>
<p>Chapter 13</p><p>Wednesday, April 28, 1999</p><p>School was different for Ethan Lee that day. A sad hush had fallen over everyone. Police had arrived in droves and interrogated everyone as to the coffee pot exploits of Atwood Nash (of course, only Ethan Lee and Atwood Nash actually knew the creator of the coffee pot exploits). </p>
<p>Chapter 12</p><p>A man's dying is more the survivors' affair than his own. -Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain, 1924</p><p>Tuesday, April 27, 1999</p>
<p><em>It's nine years old. It reads like a kid wrote it and you people want more. I love you people. Let's go back to '99 shall we?</em> </p><p>Chapter 11</p><p>Monday, April 26, 1999</p>
Chapter 10 Sunday, April 25, 1999 The scarcely populated bus stopped at Benning Road, three blocks from the Phelps’s residence. The bus stop was across the street from one of Jim’s adolescent haunts, St. Peter’s cemetery.
<p><em>Okay, from what I can tell by the feedback I'm getting, more of you want me to continue then want me to stop. And since this book is nine years old and doesn't require any actual writing (just formatting issues), I have taken it upon myself to finish posting this book. So for those of you who like it, you'll get it straight to the end. And to those of you who hate it,</em>
Chapter 8 Friday, April 23, 1999 At eight in the morning he felt her soft kiss. “Wake up, Ethan. We’re late,” her whispering voice cooed. In a playful mood, he grabbed her hands and held them over her head, thrusting his body on top of her. He bit her neck quickly, recoiling like a snake. “Not going,” he muttered, burying his face into her bosom.
<p><em>The first time you try to write a book is always the most awkward. Hey, I have an idea. Instead of reading this nine year old work by an inept kid, you </em><a href="http://www.lulu.com/content/2708643" target="_blank"><em>should buy (or download) my new book</em></a><em>. Seriously. You'll love it. I know that like I know I love pudding pops.</em> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
Now that George Carlin is dead, we live in a world with one less truth teller, one less bullshit caller, and one less comedic genius.
In case you were wondering why this isn't in italics and why there are no links here, please understand the complexities involved in dealing with a nine year old document. I mean, I think started typing this thing on the actual first version Microst Word.
The Snippets and the Impure Tour is Nathan DeGraaf's first book, based on a true story about a kid who followed the Grateful Dead, and the ever-popular, humorous "snippets" of conversation along the way.