conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a book titled Mr. Monk Gets Even about It's, Deseret, News with the genre: Literature & Fiction, United States.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "It's a funny, readable book that retains the flavor of the TV series and stays true to the characters despite them moving on,"  Deseret News
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mr. Monk Gets Even
  Buried in the back pages, at the bottom of an inside column, was a small story on the continuing search for Dale Biederback. It included an artist's rendering barely larger than a postage stamp of what the fugitive might look like now.
  I would have studied the photo closely, and committed it to memory, but I forgot to bring my electron microscope with me. I'd ask Devlin for a copy of the sketch the next time I saw her.
  He was more than glad. He was ecstatic and, I think, truly thankful to have a new mystery to occupy his mind and distract him from what he perceived as his recent, and humiliating, failures.
  I picked him up in front of his house and we drove down to Marina Green, an eight-block-long flat expanse of grass right on the bay, offering spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz and built atop the ruins of disaster.
  The area was a marsh until the 1906 earthquake, when the rubble of old San Francisco was dumped there, creating a very unstable landfill that, despite the threat of another temblor, became the site of the 1915 World's Fair.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The area was a marsh until the 1906 earthquake, when the rubble of old San Francisco was dumped there, creating a very unstable landfill that, despite the threat of another temblor, became the site of the 1915 World's Fair..
  I picked him up in front of his house and we drove down to Marina Green, an eight-block-long flat expanse of grass right on the bay, offering spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz and built atop the ruins of disaster. He was ecstatic and, I think, truly thankful to have a new mystery to occupy his mind and distract him from what he perceived as his recent, and humiliating, failures.
  He was more than glad. I'd ask Devlin for a copy of the sketch the next time I saw her.
  I would have studied the photo closely, and committed it to memory, but I forgot to bring my electron microscope with me. It included an artist's rendering barely larger than a postage stamp of what the fugitive might look like now. Monk Gets Even
  Buried in the back pages, at the bottom of an inside column, was a small story on the continuing search for Dale Biederback.Mr
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The wedding was scheduled for noon. At about nine forty-five, Julie and I put on our fanciest dresses and drove over to pick up Monk and Ellen, arriving at Monk's door at ten sharp.
  Yes, I know it was a full two hours in advance, but Monk wanted to be absolutely sure there was no way we could arrive late to his brother's wedding.
  I resisted the urge to let myself in with my key and knocked on the door instead. I didn't work for him anymore and it wasn't my home. What made me think I could just breeze in like Kramer on Seinfeld? What if Monk was finally in a romantic clinch with Ellen?
  I know that seems improbable, but stranger things have happened, like an agoraphobic, middle-aged writer of instruction manuals marrying a tattooed ex-con biker chick.
  Monk opened the door and stood in front of us, wearing his tuxedo. I'd never seen him dressed in anything but his usual clothes and a hazmat suit, so it took a moment for the sight to sink in. I stepped inside and walked around him, my hands in front of me, Monk-style.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I stepped inside and walked around him, my hands in front of me, Monk-style. At about nine forty-five, Julie and I put on our fanciest dresses and drove over to pick up Monk and Ellen, arriving at Monk's door at ten sharp.
  Yes, I know it was a full two hours in advance, but Monk wanted to be absolutely sure there was no way we could arrive late to his brother's wedding.
  I resisted the urge to let myself in with my key and knocked on the door instead. I didn't work for him anymore and it wasn't my home. What made me think I could just breeze in like Kramer on Seinfeld? What if Monk was finally in a romantic clinch with Ellen?
  I know that seems improbable, but stranger things have happened, like an agoraphobic, middle-aged writer of instruction manuals marrying a tattooed ex-con biker chick.
  Monk opened the door and stood in front of us, wearing his tuxedo. I'd never seen him dressed in anything but his usual clothes and a hazmat suit, so it took a moment for the sight to sink in.The wedding was scheduled for noon.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.. Start with the sentence 'He was snapping his fingers and bopping to some imaginary tune as I pulled up to the curb'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He was snapping his fingers and bopping to some imaginary tune as I pulled up to the curb. I rolled down the passenger window.
  Monk opened the door and got in. "The trick to a successful disguise isn't clothes or makeup—it's attitude. You have to embody the character you are portraying."
  I decided not to pursue that line of questioning any further. He got a pair of gloves and slipped them on as I drove.
  Monk nodded, found a small evidence baggie in the glove compartment, and put his used gloves into them. "Does she have any references?"
  We drove for a while in silence. And when Monk spoke again, he sounded a little choked up. I know that I was.