Word: bulleting
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...grams of 24-karat gold, and placed the gun in a mink pouch in a Baccarat crystal case embossed with the customer's name. Bijan's own signature is engraved in gold on the shank of the gun. It is the perfect accompaniment to his line of bullet-proof clothing. "Gucci," he says with evident pride, "never did gold pistols." Advertisements, which have run in such trendsheets as Interview and Town and Country, include one with a black-robed woman pointing the revolver at the reader...
...able to take it. He must be a Zen stoic who overdoses on pain in order to prove himself to himself. In Barbarosa, Willie Nelson lies placidly in his own new grave; he cauterizes his own stomach wound with flaming gunpowder; an enemy's bullet creases his cheek-not a word, not a whine, not so much as a flinch. In The Challenge, Scott Glenn dines on live eels and beetles; stands buried up to his neck in dirt for five days; gets karated or garroted every five minutes. So reads the code of the Old West (in Barbarosa...
...wheel of her family's Oldsmobile. The car had smashed into a small tree, and at first it appeared that she, and the nine-month fetus she was carrying, had died in an auto accident. X rays revealed, however, that her right eyelid had been closed over a bullet hole made by a .32-cal. slug as it was fired into her brain. Investigators in La Grange then built a case of murder-for-hire against her husband Larry, his girlfriend Denise Lambert and three local hoods enlisted with the alleged help of Heath's brother Jerry. Though...
Judge Barrington Parker's flat recital continued through the 13 assault, murder and weapons counts. ". . . On count five, not guilty by reason of insanity." That was for the bullet into the stomach of Secret Service Agent Timothy McCarthy. ". . . On count seven, not guilty by reason of insanity." For the bullet that tore through the brain of James Brady, the once ebullient press secretary. ". . . On count ten, not guilty by reason of insanity." For the bullet into the neck of Police Officer Thomas Delahanty. Judge Parker's voice, usually calm and assured, began to quaver. ". . . On count twelve...
This battle rages through his books: in the old fishing village of St. Botolphs, in Manhattan apartments and in privileged communities named Shady Hill, Bullet Park or Proxmire Manor. The warriors drink too much, commit adultery, contemplate and sometimes execute murder. They ride trains, accepting a shuttle in lieu of a destination. They feel themselves inexplicably blessed and damned. Occasionally, they sense redemption in "the perfumes of life: sea water, the smoke of burning hemlock, and the breasts of women...