My business card no longer identified me as a writer, but as an employee communications manager. Probably not more than a minute. As the words coming from the stage arched toward a climax, I recalled a recent conversation with a sales manager.
Mowambi had not known all that had taken place, until Rick Johnson told him.
The bleachers surrounded an impressive but temporary stage that had been erected overnight by a production crew using simple risers, aluminum piping, black drapes and lighting. Silver 1 Capt. He had picked this spot, this saddle near the top of the two washes, from far away.
The final, long ovation faded into a swell of upbeat walk-out music, and the crowd scrambled down the wide steps and toward the exits. Jilleen picks up the bushel basket and walks sideways toward the house, keeping the Doberman under surveillance but avoiding its glassy eyes. Sloane 1 R. Still, I listened in disbelief as co-workers roared at lines I had labored over, polished, and served up to the executive suite on a floppy disk.
Kofoed 1 WM.
Spontaneous applause rippled through the hotel ballroom in waves, a new one breaking even before the last had receded. Thor Jensen 1 K. The three bushmen from the Kalahari and the two white men from Zambia. What a good-looking family they were.
Comics 1 H. George Island, Sam calls Barbara from the office.