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| | The Polly Song |
 | | Polly was no prodigy, and nothing about the forced-march practice schedule, with sessions often preceded by screaming fits, or her struggles with classical music that was way over her head, induced in me the slightest interest or jealousy. |
 | | Polly couldn't believe her good fortune; she didn't know whether to be theatrically affronted with the godawful noise, or theatrically delighted with the vast new possibilities of ridicule she could heap on me. A good deal for her either way. |
 | | Polly moved in with him when he was twenty-eight and she was fresh out of high school, much to the horror of my father, a pious, God-fearing Catholic, and much to the disgust of my mother, a staunch upholder of middle-class mores. |
| www.dutchgirl.com /foxpaws/short_fiction/pollysong.html (5083 words) |
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