The Glory Of A Good Tale Is

There's One Novel, Cujo, That I Barely Remember Writing At All.

Busy As A One Legged Man In An Ass Kicking Contest.

We Sometimes Need To Create Unreal Monsters And Bogies To Stand In For All The Things We Fear In Our Real Lives.

Terror. When You Come Home And Notice Everything You Own Has Been Taken Away And Replaced By An Exact Substitute. It’s When The Lights Go Out And You Feel Something Behind You-you Hear It-you Feel Its Breath Against Your Ear, But When You Turn Around There’s Nothing There.

Because Who Would Ever Want To Get Close To Another Person If They Knew How Hard The Letting-go Part Was? In Your Heart They Only Die A Little At A Time, Don't They? Like A Plant When You Go Away On A Trip And Forget To Ask A Neighbor To Poke In Once In Awhile With The Old Watering-can, And Its So Sad—