conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids about Les, Cross, Norton with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Les Norton, a big red-headed country boy from Queensland, has just arrived in the big smoke and is set to make his mark. Working as a bouncer at an illegal casino in the Cross, Les encounters a number of fascinating characters who make up the seamier side of one of the most exciting cities in the world gamblers, conmen, storyies, bouncers, hookers and hit men, who ply their respective trades from the golden sands of Bondi to the tainted gutters of Kings Cross... usually on the wrong side of the law.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Working as a bouncer at an illegal casino in the Cross, Les encounters a number of fascinating characters who make up the seamier side of one of the most exciting cities in the world gamblers, conmen, storyies, bouncers, hookers and hit men, who ply their respective trades from the golden sands of Bondi to the tainted gutters of Kings Cross... usually on the wrong side of the law.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids
  You don't have to look hard to find a lot of tough men around Sydney town, especially in the Balmain, Inner City and Eastern Suburbs area. They might be wharfies, truckies, meatworkers, ex-boxers, footballers; they might be anything you like that go towards making up the ranks of what are regarded as hard men, A lot of hard men usually end up working as bouncers somewhere, like a pub or disco, but if they're really good and they've got a bit of brains to go with the brawn there's a good chance they'll finish up on the door of an illegal casino; and while a lot of people say there's nothing too prestigious about being a bouncer, to work on the door of an illegal gambling casino is about as prestigious as you can get in the bouncing rort.
  The reason is the huge amounts of money involved. In the 70s when Sydney was a real toddlin' town, the casinos were all run by very rich, very powerful men who had generally been old villains and hard boys themselves in their day. They could soon sort out a sheep from a goat and with millions of dollars in cash going through their hands, cash that had to be minded and collected, they wouldn't employ a lot of cream puffs and would-be's to do it for them. They could afford to pay enormous slings to the police and politicians to keep the casinos' operating, so they got the best protection there was in that department. Being able to pay the best wages for their heavies they only got the best men available in that department also; and the best of these was a big, red-headed ex-Queensland meatworker named Les Norton.
  Actually Norton wasn't really all that big. He didn't have a great bull chest and he was just a shade under six feet. But he had good broad shoulders and a wide, powerful trunk that sometimes, especially in a tuxedo, gave him the appearance of being as wide as he was tall. However, he did have exceptionally long, thick sinewy arms covered in bristly red hairs and at the end of them dangled two massive gnarled hands, the fingers literally like Fijian bananas, the knuckles like fifty cent coins. And when he closed those two massive paws to form a fist, they looked like a couple of those Darling Downs hams you see hanging up in butcher shops around Christmas.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: As the Rolls slowly cruised off down the street Les noticed Stavros herd his family, all arguing in Greek, out of the house and bundle them noisily into the Valiant; Despina got in the front, Johnny Cash sat in the back between the two boys. Despina looked quite nice in a sleeveless white dress with a floppy light blue hat, the boys were brushed up also in their dark blue Waverley College suits; all freshly dry-cleaned. Stavros was wearing the most ostentatious, black, chalk striped suit imaginable with a red tie about a yard wide. He looked like a heavy in a spaghetti western.
  He stood there for a moment as they drove off, idly kicking some rubbish into the still lightly flowing gutter. The rain had eased and out towards the ocean he could see a couple of small blue patches among the pastel greys of the sky. He was about to go in his gate when he spotted one of the old pensioners across the road, Mrs. Beatty, trying to manoeuvre a large, potted rubber tree plant from her front verandah down the front stairs.
  Mrs. Beatty produced a crumpled tissue from her apron, took off her glasses and polished them vigorously. Les could sense she was winding up for a bit of good gossip.
  Les thought back to his episode with King and the cricket stump. 'Yeah, it would,' he said. 'So what happened then?'
  Les nodded his big head slowly. 'You're right there,' he said. As they were standing there it started to rain again. 'Look at that,' he said. 'Just as I thought it was going to clear up. Well, I'd better get inside.' He made a move for the front gate.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ' He made a move for the front gate.. Well, I'd better get inside. 'Just as I thought it was going to clear up. 'Look at that,' he said. As they were standing there it started to rain again. 'You're right there,' he said. 'So what happened then?'
  Les nodded his big head slowly. 'Yeah, it would,' he said.
  Les thought back to his episode with King and the cricket stump. Les could sense she was winding up for a bit of good gossip. Beatty produced a crumpled tissue from her apron, took off her glasses and polished them vigorously.
  Mrs. Beatty, trying to manoeuvre a large, potted rubber tree plant from her front verandah down the front stairs. He was about to go in his gate when he spotted one of the old pensioners across the road, Mrs. The rain had eased and out towards the ocean he could see a couple of small blue patches among the pastel greys of the sky.
  He stood there for a moment as they drove off, idly kicking some rubbish into the still lightly flowing gutter. He looked like a heavy in a spaghetti western. Stavros was wearing the most ostentatious, black, chalk striped suit imaginable with a red tie about a yard wide. Despina looked quite nice in a sleeveless white dress with a floppy light blue hat, the boys were brushed up also in their dark blue Waverley College suits; all freshly dry-cleaned.As the Rolls slowly cruised off down the street Les noticed Stavros herd his family, all arguing in Greek, out of the house and bundle them noisily into the Valiant; Despina got in the front, Johnny Cash sat in the back between the two boys
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: When a gang of skinheads bashed Davo's old school friend to death simply because he was gay, and left Davo almost dead in an intensive care unit, they unleashed a crazed killer onto the city streets. Before the summer had ended, over thirty corpses had turned up in the morgue, leaving two bewildered detectives to find out where they were coming from.
  All Norton wanted was a quiet coffee and Sacher cake at the Hakoah Club in Bondi, and to be left alone to sort out his troubled love life. How he let notorious conman Kelvin Kramer talk him up to Surfers Paradise for five days, Les will never know. Supposedly to mind KK and his massively boobed girlfriend, American model Crystal Linx, in Australia to promote her latest record. Though it did seem like a good idea at the time. Apart from the President of the United States arriving and Norton's domestic problems, there wasn't much keeping him in Sydney.
  They don't call him Lucky Les for nothing. A ticket in a raffle and Norton was off to the US of A – Siestasota, Florida, where it turned out hot, red hot, and it wasn't just the weather.
  Night club brawls, mafia hitmen, too many girls called Lori, gun crazed Americans and the whole lot washed along in a sea of margaritas. Even for Les Norton it was just too hot to handle.
  So it was off to 'greener' pastures – the Caribbean – for reggae, rum and Rastafarians, not to mention Sultry Delta, sweet-lipped Esme, and Millwood Downie, schoolteacher, historian and would-be stand-up comic, who helps Les trace his family tree and possibly uncover the biggest earn ever.