conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'The Big Fix'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Big Fix
  Ruth nearly had a breakdown writing and rewriting the chapters. She and Walt had their first serious fight when he suggested she try writing a novel and not the world's greatest literature. Ruth blamed the "atmosphere" now and although it was a strain on his bank account, Walt rented a place for her on a small island which was trying terribly hard to be a second Fire Island. Ruth spent the summer attending many parties and doing little writing. That fall she took her present job, editing a trade magazine and now had a true excuse for not writing—the job "pooped" Ruth.
  For a time she tried drinking, but wasn't good at it. Then, as if to spite herself, she began working like an eager-beaver on the cosmetic magazine, making it one of the top journals in its field. In a perverse way she was happy at her job because she hated it and knew Walt was unhappy because she despised and mocked her job. For the past three months they had barely talked to each other—and with Walt's change of tours, during some weeks rarely saw the other. Ruth decided to "punish" Walt by not having any "mama-papa" stuff until Walt came crawling. But he also seemed indifferent. A month ago she met Burges and somehow he reminded Ruth of her younger days, when she was so sure of being a famous writer.
  Ruth stopped to buy a bottle of soda. Entering their apartment, with her story about being at the printers carefully worked out in her mind, Ruth was surprised that Walt wasn't there. It was a few minutes after nine thirty and she stared at the cigarette butts in the ash tray, made herself a light drink, wondered, uneasily, where Walt was. Now she was sure somebody had been with him when she had phoned, and felt a flash of hysterics as she examined the butts for lipstick traces.
  The late evening paper was on top of the television set and Ruth had a hunch Walt had just left the house. But that wasn't like him. He never went out alone. She glanced at the paper, thinking a little about Burgie, not at all sure what he meant to her. After soaking in a hot tub, she finished the paper in bed. By ten-thirty she was really worried about Walt. As Ruth was debating whether to call the squad room, he might have gone out on an emergency assignment, the phone rang. Walt said, "Glad you're home. I'll be right over. Oh, I'm bringing somebody with me."
  He hung up before she could ask what it was all about There was an intenseness in his voice which annoyed her. She carefully brushed her long black hair and, as an afterthought put on her best girdle and bra, to make certain she looked slim under her robe. "Now wouldn't this be a living bitch if Walt is bringing another woman over for a showdown!" Ruth told herself. "But that's impossible, I know Walt. Still... he might have been seeing some floozie all these months. Perhaps I misunderstood his coolness in bed. Well I can always phone Burgie. I'll scream if Walt tries to leave me!"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me three more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Walt was staring at him with his mouth open—again. Then he gasped, "But supposing I hadn't showed? Or had been a few minutes late? Why, for all you know, I might have been working now!"
  Al went to bed at ten after two and was up at five o'clock. He was far too nervous, excited, and over-tired to sleep. But he was happy. Work was a tranquilizer to him, and the faster the pace the more he enjoyed it. He often found work more relaxing than the high-priced call girls he patronized. His station had set up an on-the-spot remote for the nightly eleven o'clock news. Everything had been a happy blur of activity from the moment his heart froze—when Big Burt came at Tommy with a knife—until he was telling the TV audience what had happened, pointing to the crude chalk outline on the floor, showing where Burt had fallen.
  To Alvin's amazement, Walt had been shy, in fact almost sullen, over the whole deal. Walt and a plump police lieutenant had a fast talk and Alvin was told not to mention Burt's connection with the numbers racket. Al didn't quite understand what they were talking about, since he didn't know about May, but Tommy seemed pleased. All Alvin knew was he had walked into the crummy bar a few minutes before eight, and started over toward Tommy, who was standing in the middle of the bar. Cork had stared at him, eyes big under his scarred eyebrows.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Then he gasped, "But supposing I hadn't showed? Or had been a few minutes late? Why, for all you know, I might have been working now!"
  Al went to bed at ten after two and was up at five o'clock. He was far too nervous, excited, and over-tired to sleep. But he was happy. Work was a tranquilizer to him, and the faster the pace the more he enjoyed it. He often found work more relaxing than the high-priced call girls he patronized. His station had set up an on-the-spot remote for the nightly eleven o'clock news. Everything had been a happy blur of activity from the moment his heart froze—when Big Burt came at Tommy with a knife—until he was telling the TV audience what had happened, pointing to the crude chalk outline on the floor, showing where Burt had fallen.
  To Alvin's amazement, Walt had been shy, in fact almost sullen, over the whole deal. Walt and a plump police lieutenant had a fast talk and Alvin was told not to mention Burt's connection with the numbers racket. Al didn't quite understand what they were talking about, since he didn't know about May, but Tommy seemed pleased. All Alvin knew was he had walked into the crummy bar a few minutes before eight, and started over toward Tommy, who was standing in the middle of the bar. Cork had stared at him, eyes big under his scarred eyebrows.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last three paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Walt said softly, "Don't pass up any cash, along with the job. After all, the policy is still in force and now there's no reason to cancel it. You're a professional boxer and unless the company gives you some other means of income, you'll have to return to the ring and..."
  Flatts smiled at Walt. "You a lawyer along with being a dick, Steiner? You don't have to sell me, I'll do my best. But it isn't up to me. I think some sort of small cash reward can be worked up. But I can safely say my company will certainly give you a job—that's the least they can do."
  Tommy signed. "Man, wait 'til I tell May. My Irish luck is still hitting on all cylinders. Insurance man, for me a job isn't the least. It's the most."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Walt said softly, "Don't pass up any cash, along with the job. After all, the policy is still in force and now there's no reason to cancel it. You're a professional boxer and unless the company gives you some other means of income, you'll have to return to the ring and..."
  Flatts smiled at Walt. "You a lawyer along with being a dick, Steiner? You don't have to sell me, I'll do my best. But it isn't up to me. I think some sort of small cash reward can be worked up. But I can safely say my company will certainly give you a job—that's the least they can do."
  Tommy signed. "Man, wait 'til I tell May. My Irish luck is still hitting on all cylinders. Insurance man, for me a job isn't the least. It's the most.