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God's Hooks! by Howard Waldrop They were in the End of the World Tavern at the bottom of Great Auk Street. The place was crowded, noisy. As patrons came in, they paused to kick their boots on the floor and shake the cinders from their rough clothes. The air smelled of wood smoke, singed hair, heated and melted glass. "Ho!" yelled a man at one of the noisiest tables to his companions, who were dressed more finely than the workmen around them. "Here's old Izaak now, come up from Staffordshire." A man in his seventies, dressed in brown with a wide white collar, bagged pants, and cavalier boots, stood in the doorway. He took off his high-brimmed hat and shook it against his pants leg. "Good evening, Charles, Percy, Mr. Marburton," he said, his grey eyes showing merry above his full white mustache and Vandyke beard. "Father Izaak," said Charles Cotton, rising and embracing the older man |
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