Faulkner, Pylon. “The hostler slid, lean and fast, past the golfbag and the gears and under the wheel. Hagood entered stiffly, like an old man, letting himself down into the low seat, whereupon without sound or warning the golfbag struck him across the head and shoulder with an apparently calculated and lurking viciousness, emitting a series of dry clicks as though produced by the jaws of a beast domesticated though not tamed, half in fun and half in deadly seriousness, like a pet shark. Hagood flung the bag back and then caught it just before it clashed at him again. ‘Why in hell didn’t you put it into the rumble?’ he said.”
[Really cool thing about this passage may be how he “flung the bag back and then caught it just before it clashed at him again,” which is how it happens: when something suddenly falls on you your reaction is to do what will keep it from falling rather than to do what is actually needed to stabilize it, so it is very likely to fall back on you again.]
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 