Somewhere in here, life got the upper hand and by the time I strolled once more past that bat tree I was able to buy both the 3rd and 4th booklet in this series and the clerk at the store informed me that the 5th was expected any day. I was on the cusp of a long weekend with a veritable feast in front of me.
And so I ate; ramming it in, taking huge gulps at a time, as Paul Edgecombe suffered through the worst urinary infection of his life, All the time trying not to shiver, because the fever had turned cold, as they sometimes will. Except for my groin which still felt as if it had been slit open, filled with hot coals, and then sewed back up again.
when he put himself too close to John Coffey’s magic hands.
Wild Bill Wharton goes to the back room, the one with the soft walls and we meet Melinda Moore, the warden’s wife. It is the characters here, on King’s Green Mile that bring life to the pages, even Mr, Jingles, mouse extraordinaire; all of them so finely painted, so accessible.
And honestly, if King is able to so shake me with emotion over, well, vermin, what other power lay in this man’s hands.
And then Eduard Delacroix walks the green mile and once again Percy Wetmore stains the page and we the reader learn just how bad things can get on the mile. Can any good come of this?
Thankfully the clerk was right, because when I walked past the bats the following day, book 5 was waiting for me.
And so I ate some more, having my lunch with the other guards at Paul Edgecome’s house and listened as he outlined his insane plan, the one that resulted in a journey, late at night, a plan that was fraught with peril and put everybody’s livelihood at risk.
Still, we all went along. only this time Percy Wetmore was surrounded by soft walls, and John Coffey could not take his eyes off the night sky, as our journey began.
Coming back was different, we were all stunned sure, but Coffey was suffering real bad from his own part in the nights adventures, we all were, except nowhere near like this humble, mountain of a man, about whose huge neck hung Melinda Moore’s fine link chain, with the silver St. Christopher medallion. As it turned out our evening was far from over.
And so I waited for August, as did, countless others.