Explore "Whispering Death" by Laurence Donovan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WE'RE down on our bellies in the whisperin' grass, "Plug Ugly" and me and the looie.
How come that bunch of stalks had survived down there in the narrow bottom of that ravine, I don't pretend to know. But it had kept on growing until it seeded and dried right in the nose of a three-months rain of hell.