(no subject)
There were few joys in the world like a good old campfire, smores, and a book. Even though the bookshelf kept giving him Patterson, Patterson, and more Patterson (honestly, did it produce three times the work in the span of a second? Did Island-time somehow conspire to let him finish even more books in the blink of an eye?), he still had something to read.
He'd dragged dry kindling and heavy stones with him down to the beach and set up a nice little area with an admittedly hard amount of labor poured into it. It really was a good thing, too, that he hadn't had his nails done in a while because they would be pretty wrecked at this point.
And the smores.
Well, Castle couldn't exactly call to the local grocer to have them send over something, so he's made do with a lemon-type thin wafer cookie that he once made as a child (it took five ingredients and didn't burn down the house) and he's layered it with bananas and oranges. He may just call them Island Smores.
No, scratch that. He'll think of something more clever to come up with when he's not busy reading by firelight, Patterson's words illuminated by the flickering.
"And then," he narrated aloud in a daunting and heavy tone, "the author was accosted by a poker game and a clever, cunning, ruggedly handsome foe who was simply too good and beat the wordy bastard with a royal flush." Well, okay, maybe that wasn't exactly on page 91, but Castle bet it would've sold a lot more copies if the truth was printed.
[Campfire near the beach. ST/LT open through Friday, no tag limit]
He'd dragged dry kindling and heavy stones with him down to the beach and set up a nice little area with an admittedly hard amount of labor poured into it. It really was a good thing, too, that he hadn't had his nails done in a while because they would be pretty wrecked at this point.
And the smores.
Well, Castle couldn't exactly call to the local grocer to have them send over something, so he's made do with a lemon-type thin wafer cookie that he once made as a child (it took five ingredients and didn't burn down the house) and he's layered it with bananas and oranges. He may just call them Island Smores.
No, scratch that. He'll think of something more clever to come up with when he's not busy reading by firelight, Patterson's words illuminated by the flickering.
"And then," he narrated aloud in a daunting and heavy tone, "the author was accosted by a poker game and a clever, cunning, ruggedly handsome foe who was simply too good and beat the wordy bastard with a royal flush." Well, okay, maybe that wasn't exactly on page 91, but Castle bet it would've sold a lot more copies if the truth was printed.
[Campfire near the beach. ST/LT open through Friday, no tag limit]