Novelas y relatos de Henry Huggins

He stuffed them into his mouth and I was fairly certain he didn’t even chew them before swallowing. “Babe, you’re going to choke if you eat so fast,” said Naoko. “You look like a human vacuum cleaner,” was my comment. Henry just threw some more fries into his wide, gaping mouth. “If you didn’t want me to eat your food, you shouldn’t have invited me out.” I snorted. “I didn’t invite you, and those are my fries.” “Who’s your advisor again? I feel like you told me, but I have the attention span of a squirrel.” Henry sighed. “I misplaced my sheet music yesterday. I eventually found it in the fridge.”

Dalton After I put Layla to bed, I return immediately to the shed. I look down at the dead man with a mix of pity and rage. He’s not much older than me. He was handsome, with blond hair and eyes that used to be blue. But now, they’ve started to decay into his skull. The skin is flayed from his fingers, revealing bone, but the rest of him is in surprisingly good shape considering how long he’s been here. I remember him. Henry, that was his name. Henry Swanson, from Mississippi, an architect apprentice who never made it back after traveling here to visit his girlfriend.

The minutes Miriam had left, Henry trudged towards the children's sections to notice a nicely made wristwatch with cartoonish characters. "Hey, do you like that?" The voice of Christain filled the air, making Henry twirl around to see who exactly it was. "Are you a big fan of spiderman?" Christian asked. "No, I love Batman more," Henry told him. "Nice, what's your name?" Christian asked. "Henry, who are you talking to?" The voice of Miriam spoke as she trudged towards her son. "Christian?" She called, stunned. "Miriam?" He responded softly and calmly.

There was nothing in the bedroom which could be of any help so she remained at her place. Although she was surprised by Henry's behavior tonight. In her drunken state, Henry didn’t try to force himself on her when she clearly felt his heat and remembered his touch on her. But then he didn’t go further and withdrew his fingers in the middle of the way. She looked confused by his actions, but one thing was definitely confirmed he was indeed Henry Ford, the mafia leader in the past. And the reason for his becoming the wealthiest man in NYC is still unknown. She moved a little and wanted to be away from his touch and warmth when in his sleep he tightened his grip on her and she had no choice but

As I opened the door I popped one pill and then I started to feel more in control of my emotions. Then I switched on the TV and I saw him... the man whom I used to call dad... who is not my dad... who just used me... "Today Mr. Henry Jones is arrested by police. He was hiding in an old villa in the jungle. Mr. Jones has been running away from the law for three years now. He will be presented in court as soon as possible." They read and I gulped another pill.

Instinctively I scurried away from Aaron. Henry side-eyed me and chuckled, ”Can't you restrict your wolf hearing?” I asked. “Don't worry, I didn't hear anything too serious” he said making hearts with his hands and imitating a beating one. I rolled my eyes, “Tell me what?” “Go on, lad.” “Shut up, Henry” “Go onnnnn” he stressed. When it seemed like nothing was coming forth, Henry sighed. “I guess, I'll tell you myself then. Mr. Moody over here, has had me lacing your drink”

"I rarely joke about things like this, Nathan." "Maverick 'Maybe' Rockwell? The hockey captain?" My voice cracked slightly, my usual composure slipping. "Sir, the guy has his face on banners outside the stadium. He has a literal fan club and he's a partying freak, disruptive, and quite frankly, his crowd is exactly what I spend my entire life avoiding."

Still staring blankly at the older man, he paused almost a full minute before he said anything. "Do you know why I have come here?" he said at last in a voice that was as flat and emotionless as his stare. Henry noticed that he had an American accent. He felt a momentary crazy impulse to make a joke, to answer something like: You've come to read the water-meter. Or: You've come to read the gas-meter. That would be better! Oh yes, the gas meter: that would be suitably sick! But he didn't say anything. Instead he merely nodded.

How do I fix this mess? “Come, cutie. Your father's name is Harry. He once lived here in New York, but now he’s far away,” Evelyn answered instead, crouching to Henry's level and giving him a hug just above his chest. How relieved I was to see she helped me. A lump had formed in my throat when he asked those questions, and my mouth parted in disbelief. No words were coming out, and I could tell he read meaning into it. Henry was a very smart kid—I would have thought he got that from his father, if I hadn’t been with him for the three whole years of my life.

Heron surly demanded, his breathing becoming heavier, exhaling steam through the receiver. “It’s …..” I don’t remember his name, so I sweetly asked him, “It’s been a long time since I saw you but I can’t recall your name.” “Henry, the comic fanatic.” He apprised to jog my memory. With full delight, his cheeks and eyebrows swelled. “Oh, I remember now.” I exclaimed as I vetted his features, removing the phone from my ears, “You have grown a lot. You were so scrawny when we were younger and now you have biceps and muscles. Totally matured.”