Thursday, March 04, 2010

Pulp Diction: Part 4

Here's the conclusion to John McIntyre's stirring grammar noir. We're not sure we're able to handle its sexy, sexy plot twists this early in the morning. English muffin, anyone?
Pulp Diction 4: The Dark Tower

The Amtrak from Baltimore to New York was only ninety minutes late to Penn Station, and the sun was setting as Fogarty and I crept up on AP Stylebook Headquarters.

“We’re in luck,” I whispered. “They haven’t lowered the portcullis yet.”

“But there’s a guard,” she said.

“Maybe you could distract that slab of brawn while I slip past.”

“Leave it to me.” She loosened two buttons on her blouse and walked up to the muscle. His head turned; I slipped past. A minute later, after a dull thud and a splash, Fogarty was beside me.
Read the rest.


Barry Leiba said...

"Portcullis" is such a good word.

Martha Brockenbrough said...

It is! I encountered it in a book last night and supplied my husband and daughter with the word earlier in the week when they were talking about castles.

I'm going to make it the official word of the week, just for fun.