I should choose just one author to have lunch with. Hmmm. To hell with that. I’ll get a group together. Steinbeck, Heinlein, Kerouac, Capote, Orwell, Faulkner, Harper Lee, Woolf, Morrison, and Salinger. I’d get them in my favorite barroom, the Harvard Garden on the backside of Boston’s Beacon Hill circa 1965. I’d get them all soused on their favorite goods, and then let them meander around the intellectual merry-go-round until the competitive juices started flowing. Then the fight would start.
It would be grand! My bets are on Steinbeck and Faulkner for being the most vicious dirty fighters, but hey, I love to be surprised. Once the biting and punching start, we can call the Fuzz from Station Four to haul them into Judge Adlow’s infamous midnight drunk tank courtroom for the perp walk from the drunk tank.
After that, we’ll see who writes the most compelling essay on the evening.
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Add some other rowdy tough guys to the party. Ian Fleming, Mickey Spillane and a highly sensitive ones like O’Henry, Colleen Hoover (It Ends with US.
OOOOOHHHH! I should have thought of Spillane and Fleming!
Ernie would take them all…
I agree! OHhhhhh…Salinger is down! Ouch! That kick to the head knocked Jack out!