I borrowed Harold’s copy of H.G. Wells’ The Island of Doctor Moreau. Harold has underlined several short passages, which I note here in the order in which they appear in Wells’ book.
(Then the noise overhead began again, a snarling growl and the voice of a human being together. Then another voice, telling some ‘Heaven-forsaken idiot’ to desist.)
“Monsters manufactured!’ said I.
Then came a yelling, a crashing among the branches, and a little pink homunculus rushed by us shrieking.
‘This silly ass of a world,’ he said, ‘what a muddle it all is! I haven’t had a life. I wonder when it’s going to begin.’
In my pocket was a revolver with two empty chambers.
Perhaps I am imagining things, but these five short pieces plucked from Wells’ book, seem to suggest a strange story in their own right.