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<p><font color="#FFFFF8">This book, dear God, this book was so big. Keep cool, for God's sake — don't lose everything you've gained! Misery ran through the last four (or maybe it was five) months of his life, all right, plenty of Misery, Misery day in and Misery day out but surely that was too simple, surely — Oh no, Paul. Tony Bonasaro, who was now only so many blackened flakes of ash, had been a car-thief. He swam back to reality five minutes later, hearing the dim, goading voice of that sportscaster in his head: "He's trying to get going again! At the same time the temperature plummeted from sixty degrees down to twenty-five. It turned over, needling him from where it lay imprisoned in its cave of bones, and then fell lightly asleep again."Come on. because nobody does. You were right. "Because I don't want it grinning at me all night. But that isn't right, either.</font></p>
<p><font color="#FFFFF5">If going through things once was enough, he would have been a fucking vacuum-cleaner salesman, like his father. When he was sure she was really gone a not hanging around to see if he was going to "get up to didoes»(another Wilkesism for his growing lexicon), he rolled the wheelchair over to the bed and got the pins, along with the pitcher of water and the box of Kleenex from the night-table. He guessed that some of this hoarding was a simple nod to the realities of her situation: she was a woman alone living in the high country, where a person might reasonably expect to spend a certain period — maybe only a day, but sometimes as long as a week or even two — cut off from the rest of the world. I knew the snow would cover him up, and I thought the spring melt would carry him away if I left him in the stream-bed. The spray of dried flowers on the coffee-table had overturned; beneath the table, barely visible, lay a dish of crusted custard pudding and a large book. In his current situation, however, such niceties hardly seemed worth examination. "Make no sound,»she said, leaning over him with one hand on either side of his head, strands of her hair tickling his cheeks and forehead. He had never been as close to her as he was then, as she carried him piggyback down the steep stairs. "He wasn't telling you they had slapped a lien on your house, Annie — he was telling you they would have to if you didn't cough up by the time the town offices closed tonight. What he saw crouched back against the all in a dusty shaft of sunlight was not a rat but a great big black cat with the bushiest tail he had ever seen. Ramage, too, had her moments when she could not help wondering what life might have been like if Geoffrey and the doctor had arrived an hour later on that dark and stormy night two months ago, or if the experimental blood transfusion in which her young master had so bravely poured his own life's blood into Misery's depleted veins had not worked. The bolt she had put on looked like something halfway up a high cliff, but he clawed his way up to it, shot it, and then collapsed in a shuddery huddle at the door's foot. This was shortly, after he had asked the traditional when-the-sleeper-wakes question and she had told him he was in the little town of Sidewinder, Colorado. He had looked tired, not very well himself; nor was this surprising in a man who claimed to have shaken hands with Wellington — the Iron Duke himself — when he (Shinebone, not Wellington) had been a boy. In an act of self-preservation, part of his imagination had, over the last few weeks, actually become Annie, and it was now this Annie-part that spoke up in its dry and uncontradictable voice. The manuscript copy of Fast Cars which was now in Annie Wilkes's possession was, in fact, the only existing copy in the whole world. As dark came down on that second night, Misery's squealing went on as monotonously as ever — the pig sounded like an unlatched door with rusty hinges squealing in the wind — but Bossie No. As he bent over Paul could see the slit in his brown uniform shirt where the first blow had gone home. He had gone for a walk, thinking of nothing on top of his mind, the way he was thinking of nothing on top right now. The stolen pills were safely tucked away between the mattress and the box spring. Her glance was short, seemingly casual, but to Paul it seemed to go on for a very long time, and he was sure she would realize the can of lighter fluid was no longer there. "She smiled mistily — the smile of a woman who sees a lovely castle in the sky — and then the smile disappeared and she was all business again.</font></p>
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