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Global · 10-10-2010, 12:06 PM

Thank you.

This is the area containing the 'cut-off'. The break occurs where the asterisks are - THESE HAVE BEEN INSERTED BY ME FOR GUIDANCE AND ARE NOT PART OF THE ORIGINAL HTML!

Quote:

Natalie Maple decided something right then and there. This was where she wanted to live. This was the life she wanted. What was Arby going to say when she delivered that little piece of news? Arby would never move to Bunsen, Mississippi. Not in a million years. Natalie smiled. This little town just kept looking better and better. ARBY WAS TRYING to explain that arguing with Natalie was like trying to convince a dog not to dig a hole. "I'm very sorry to hear that, sir." The bartender couldn't care less and left. "I know just how you feel," said the young man a couple of stools over. "My aunt decided this was the place to go for our family reunion. They're all down the street watching some banjo players." "Banjos!" Arby Maple said in disgust. The young man went across to the bartender and came back with two drinks, handing one over to Arby. "It's on me." "Thanks, friend." Maple accepted it gladly. "The modern-day victims of Yee Haw! must stick together," the young man announced and raised his glass in a toast. The Scotch whiskey went down all right, but when it was done Arby had some grittiness on his tongue. "You know," his new pal announced, "the worst thing about this place is the people. The people here are very rude." "Naw, just the opposite. They're too damn polite," Maple said. "Wait. You know what? You're right. They are rude. They act polite but they're really being rude, right to your face, all the time, and just dressing it up as Southern manners. At least in New York they tell you to your face if they think you're an asshole." "Drink up, friend," the young man said. Maple drained the Scotch whiskey and tried to swallow the grainy residue on his tongue. "They can't even wash a glass ************* right." "You do not like these people," the young man stated. "You got that right." "Especially the assholes who work here." "Yeah, they're the ones who lay it on thick. They're the worst." "You know who's the worst?" the young man asked. "It's that bartender," Arby Maple growled, rising from his bar stool and clenching his fists. The young man said quickly, "No, not him! There is somebody much worse." Maple looked around the small bar, modeled after a quaint gentlemen's tavern that had operated in Charlotte, North Carolina, in the late 1800s. It was empty now. Just the two customers and the asshole behind the bar. The bartender was a miserable piece of dog crap who deserved to get the living shit kicked out of him. But there was somebody Maple hated even more. He just wasn't sure who.... "Who is it?" he demanded. The young man leaned close and held his mustache in place, pointing with his other hand. Maple looked. Out the front windows, across the immaculately clean Main Street, was a small public courtyard. "Him," the young man growled. "The guy with the cart?" "The guy with the cart," the young man said earnestly. "There is nobody you hate more than the guy with the cart." Arby Maple's lower lip curled. Hot breath stuttered from his nostrils as his body inflated with his passion. The young man was right-Arby abhorred the man with the cart. It was a soul-filling, mind-expanding malevolence. There was no reason why, and this kind of complete hatred needed no excuse. And there was only one thing to do about it. The Cobbler In A Cup guy had to die. ARBY MAPLE STRODE from the tavern, crossed Main Street and grabbed the vendor by the collar. The vendor's smile disappeared and his clip-on bow tie landed in the grass.

And here is the header

Quote:

<?xml version='1.0' encoding='utf-8'?>
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><head><title>Unknown</title><meta content="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"/><link href="stylesheet.css" type="text/css" rel="stylesheet"/><style type="text/css">
@page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; }</style></head><body class="calibre"> C:\Users\Chad\Desktop\T & U & V & W & X & Y & Z\Warren Murphy - Destroyer 134 - Bloody Tourists.pdb PDB Name: Warren Murphy - Destroyer 134 - Creator ID: REAd PDB Type: TEXt Version: 0 Unique ID Seed: 0 Creation Date: 12/31/2007 Modification Date: 12/31/2007 Last Backup Date: 1/1/1970 Modification Number: 0 Destroyer 134: Bloody Tourists By Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir Chapter 1

The above html is taken from the 'Processed' folder.

o would be most grateful if you could take a look at the whole file for me if the above does not shed any light.

Thanks.