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  • Gordie! You wanna see something?
  • Sure, I guess so. What?
  • What is it, Chris?
  • Come on down here first
  • Come on, I said!
  • I (Gordie) was headed up Carbine towards the clubhouse when a car pulled over to the kerb and Chris got out. (King 15)
  • Gimme your arm,
  • Phew! Christ Come on, gimme a break!
  • No, sincerely, I'm gonna throw u —
  • He pointed at the narrow space between the Blue Point Diner and the Castle Rock Drug Store. (King 15) 
  • You wanna be the Lone Ranger or the Cisco Kid?
  • Hawked it out of my dad's bureau. It's a .45.
  • Walking, talking Jesus! Where'd you get that?
  • He ran down the alley and after a brief moment (that's all it took me to cast aside my better judgment) I ran after him. We waded through trashy drifts of old newspapers and stepped over cruel, sparkly nests of broken beer and soda bottles. (King) 
  • Jesus!
  • *Laughing*
  • Chris cut behind the Blue Point and put his bedroll down. There were eight or nine garbage cans lined up here and the stench was incredible.(King 15) 
  • The words broke off in my mouth and I forgot all about the smelly garbage cans. Chris had unslung his pack and opened it and reached inside. Now he was holding out a huge pistol with dark wood grips.
  • I finally took the gun. I could see myself as Steve Carella of the 87th precinct, going after that guy The Heckler or maybe covering Myer Myer or Kling while they broke into a desperate junkie's sleazy apartment. I sighted on one of the smelly trashcans and squeezed the trigger.(King 16) 
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