conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a plot for a book about Sarah, Brad, Ronnie entitled Little Children? End with the sentence '\nLarry races him to the hospital, and they arrive just as Kathy meets Brad at the emergency room doors.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Little Children (film): Sarah Pierce is a hapless, stay-at-home mother in a small suburb of Boston.\nShe had been working on a doctorate in English, but set aside her work to marry Richard and raise their 3-year-old daughter, Lucy.\nHer marriage falls apart when she discovers that Richard is addicted to online pornography.\nShe meets Brad Adamson, a law student who brings his 4-year-old son, Aaron, to the park.\nAlthough Brad\'s marriage to Katherine is loving and amicable, it has been lacking intimacy.\nWhen he is supposed to be studying for the bar exam, Brad instead plays on a local football team or sits and watches teenagers skateboard outside his house, fantasizing about being young and carefree again.\nBrad and Sarah become friendly and, on a dare, kiss in the park, scandalizing the other park parents.\nThey are instantly attracted to each other, but resolve to keep their relationship platonic.\nOne day, several parents panic when they see Ronnie McGorvey, a sex offender who was recently released from prison, swimming in the pool with the children.\nAfter Ronnie is escorted away by the police, it begins to rain.\nSarah and Brad take Lucy and Aaron back to her house and put the kids to bed.\nBrad looks at one of Sarah\'s books and finds a photo of him in it.\nWhile Sarah is drying towels in her basement, Brad kisses her and they have sex.\nBrad\'s friend Larry is a former police officer who was forced to retire when he accidentally shot a teenager at a local mall.\nNow he is estranged from his wife and spends much of his time harassing Ronnie.\nRonnie lives with his mother, May, who believes that meeting a woman his own age would cure him of his pedophilia.\nRonnie knows this is futile, but agrees to go on a date May has arranged for him with a woman named Sheila.\nDuring dinner, Ronnie tells Sheila about his criminal record, and Sheila in return tells him that she has had a series of nervous breakdowns.\nThey seem to get on well, but the date ends badly when he has her drive by an elementary school playground so he can masturbate next to her in the car.\nWhen Brad skips taking the bar exam again, Kathy grows suspicious and tells Brad to invite Sarah, Richard, and Lucy over for dinner.\nThe intimacy evident between Brad and Sarah confirms her suspicions, and Kathy arranges for her mother to come for an extended visit so Brad and Sarah can\'t see one another anymore.\nWhen Brad\'s football team plays its final game, Sarah attends and cheers as Brad scores the winning touchdown.\nAfterwards, while Larry waits for Brad at a nearby bar to celebrate their victory, Brad and Sarah make out on the field.\nHe admits that this is the happiest moment of his life, and convinces Sarah to run away with him.\nLarry goes to Ronnie\'s house and uses a bullhorn to taunt him.\nMay comes out to confront him and has a heart attack.\nLarry is arrested and May is taken to the hospital.\nWhile Ronnie sleeps in the waiting room, May dies.\nWhen Ronnie goes home, he finds an envelope containing a letter written by his mother saying: "Please be a good boy".\nDistraught, Ronnie destroys much of his mother\'s collection of Hummel figurines, then takes a butcher knife from the kitchen.\nThat same night, Sarah and Brad agree to meet in the park to run away together.\nBrad tells Aaron he loves him before putting him to bed, writes Kathy a note explaining why he is leaving her, then sneaks out while she and her mother finish the dishes.\nBefore he can get to the park, he is distracted by skateboarding teenagers, who convince him to try a jump himself.\nBrad does so, but falls and knocks himself out.\nWhen he regains consciousness, he asks the paramedics to call his wife and to meet him at the hospital.\nIt turns out that he never left the note for her and tells one of the skateboarders to dispose of it for him.\nWhen Sarah takes Lucy to the park, she sees Ronnie stagger by, and briefly feels afraid.\nWhen she sees him crying about his mother\'s death, however, she feels sorry for him.\nWhen Lucy disappears, Sarah panics and rushes to find her, forgetting about Brad.\nAfter Sarah finds Lucy and puts her in the car, Sarah starts crying, realizing her getaway with Brad is just a fantasy.\nLarry is upset about having indirectly caused May\'s death.\nHe genuinely wants to apologize to Ronnie, but when he finds Ronnie in the park, he discovers that he has castrated himself and is bleeding to death.\nLarry races him to the hospital, and they arrive just as Kathy meets Brad at the emergency room doors.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a plot for a book about Sarah, Todd, Ronald entitled Little Children?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Little Children (novel): Sarah, who once considered herself a radical feminist, wonders how she allowed herself to be reduced to a common housewife, constantly at the playground with three other neighborhood mothers whom she can\'t stand.\nHer husband, Richard, is much older than her and a sort of last alternative for her love life; it is even hinted that she married him only because she feared that she would be stuck in her dead-end job as a Starbucks barista forever if she didn\'t.\nWhen she discovers his addiction to internet pornography, she is more apathetic than disgusted.\nTodd is a handsome young father the neighborhood women have nicknamed the "Prom King".\nOne of the other mothers offers a challenge to Sarah: "Five bucks if you get his phone number".\nWhile jokingly discussing the bet, Todd and Sarah engage in a kiss that becomes more passionate than the ruse called for.\nThis leads to an affair between the two, who "happen" to cross each other at the local pool and "happen" to bring their children to nap together while they have sex on the living room floor.\nLarry is a retired policeman.\nThree years before, he left the force after shooting a black teenager brandishing a toy gun at a local shopping mall; the guilt became so unbearable that he collected his pension early.\nNow, his wife has left him and taken their two sons.\nLarry, who loved his job and refuses to let go of it, is angry that Ronald "Ronnie" McGorvey, a sex offender convicted of exposing himself to children, is allowed to live in his neighborhood, and starts a one-man vendetta to drive him out.\nRonnie, for his part, finds himself ostracized by the community, and the one date his mother forces him to go on is ruined when he gives in to temptation and masturbates while watching children.\nLarry eventually gets into a shoving match with May, who has a fatal stroke.\nBertha, a school crossing guard and May\'s best friend, takes Ronnie to the hospital, where May has written him a note that reads only "Please, please be a good boy".\nTodd\'s marriage to his gorgeous wife Kathy, a documentary filmmaker, is foundering.\nShe resents being the primary breadwinner of their home and continually pressures Todd to follow up on his law school education.\nTodd never really wanted to be a lawyer and has failed the bar exam twice already; he spends his "studying" time reliving his youth by watching a group of teenage skateboarders.\nKathy later finds out about Todd\'s affair with the rather plain Sarah, and finds herself more insulted than angry that Todd would go for someone less attractive.\nAfter Sarah watches Todd win a game for his neighborhood football team, they plan to leave their spouses.\nAs Sarah prepares to leave with her daughter Lucy, Richard calls her and says that he is leaving her for an internet porn star called "Slutty Kay".\nTodd, meanwhile, injures himself while attempting a skateboarding trick in front of the teenage skaters, and realizes that he doesn\'t see a future with Sarah.\nSarah takes Lucy to the local playground late at night while waiting for Todd, but he never shows up.\nJust when she starts to lose hope, Ronald appears, crying over his mother\'s death.\nMuch to her own surprise, she feels sympathy for him — until he admits that he has given in to his compulsions and killed a girl.\nLarry suddenly approaches, ready to kill Ronald, but finds it in his heart to offer his condolence for May\'s death.\nSarah just sits, baffled, wondering how she will raise her daughter, whom she feels she has greatly let down.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first four paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Little Children
  Since taking office, Kevin had done his best to dial down the tension between the cult and the town, negotiating a series of agreements that allowed the G.R. to live more or less as it pleased, in exchange for nominal tax payments and guarantees of access for police and emergency vehicles in certain clearly defined situations. The truce seemed to be holding, but the G.R. remained an annoying wild card, popping up at odd intervals to sow confusion and anxiety among law-abiding citizens. This year, on the first day of school, several white-clad adults had staged a sit-in at Kingman Elementary School, occupying a secondgrade classroom for an entire morning. A few weeks later, another group of them had wandered onto the high school football field in the middle of a game, lying down on the turf until they were forcibly removed by angry players and spectators.
  FOR MONTHS NOW, local officials had been wondering what the G.R. would do to disrupt Heroes' Day. Kevin had sat through two planning meetings at which the subject was discussed in detail, and had reviewed a number of likely scenarios. All day he'd been waiting for them to make their move, feeling an odd combination of dread and curiosity, as if the party wouldn't really be complete until they'd crashed it.
  But the parade had come and gone without them, and the memorial service was nearing its close. Kevin had laid a wreath at the foot of the Monument to the Departed at Greenway Park, a creepy bronze sculpture produced by one of the high school art teachers. It was supposed to show a baby floating out of the arms of its astonished mother, ascending toward heaven, but something had misfired. Kevin was no art critic, but it always looked to him like the baby was falling instead of rising, and the mother might not be able to catch it.
  After the benediction by Father Gonzalez, there was a moment of silence to commemorate the third anniversary of the Sudden Departure, followed by the pealing of church bells. Nora Durst's keynote address was the last item on the program. Kevin was seated on the makeshift stage with a few other dignitaries, and he felt a little anxious as she stepped up to the podium. He knew from experience how daunting it could be to deliver a speech, how much skill and confidence it took to command the attention of a crowd even half the size of this one.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Little Children
  Since taking office, Kevin had done his best to dial down the tension between the cult and the town, negotiating a series of agreements that allowed the G.R. to live more or less as it pleased, in exchange for nominal tax payments and guarantees of access for police and emergency vehicles in certain clearly defined situations. The truce seemed to be holding, but the G.R. remained an annoying wild card, popping up at odd intervals to sow confusion and anxiety among law-abiding citizens. This year, on the first day of school, several white-clad adults had staged a sit-in at Kingman Elementary School, occupying a secondgrade classroom for an entire morning. A few weeks later, another group of them had wandered onto the high school football field in the middle of a game, lying down on the turf until they were forcibly removed by angry players and spectators.
  FOR MONTHS NOW, local officials had been wondering what the G.R. would do to disrupt Heroes' Day. Kevin had sat through two planning meetings at which the subject was discussed in detail, and had reviewed a number of likely scenarios. All day he'd been waiting for them to make their move, feeling an odd combination of dread and curiosity, as if the party wouldn't really be complete until they'd crashed it.
  But the parade had come and gone without them, and the memorial service was nearing its close. Kevin had laid a wreath at the foot of the Monument to the Departed at Greenway Park, a creepy bronze sculpture produced by one of the high school art teachers. It was supposed to show a baby floating out of the arms of its astonished mother, ascending toward heaven, but something had misfired. Kevin was no art critic, but it always looked to him like the baby was falling instead of rising, and the mother might not be able to catch it.
  After the benediction by Father Gonzalez, there was a moment of silence to commemorate the third anniversary of the Sudden Departure, followed by the pealing of church bells. Nora Durst's keynote address was the last item on the program. Kevin was seated on the makeshift stage with a few other dignitaries, and he felt a little anxious as she stepped up to the podium.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know three more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: On top of that, Nora turned out to be a natural. She spoke slowly and clearly—it was Oratory 101, but a surprising number of speakers missed that day—with just enough in the way of stumbles and hesitations to keep everything from seeming a bit too polished. It helped that she was an attractive woman, tall and well-proportioned, with a soft but emphatic voice. Like most of her audience, she was casually dressed, and Kevin found himself staring a little too avidly at the elaborate stitching on the back pocket of her jeans, which fit with a snugness one rarely encountered at official government functions. She had, he noticed, a surprisingly youthful body for a thirty-five-year-old woman who'd given birth to two kids. Lost two kids, he reminded himself, forcing himself to keep his chin up and focus on something more appropriate. The last thing he wanted to see on the cover of The Mapleton Messenger was a full-color photograph of the mayor ogling a grieving mother's butt.
  Nora began by saying that she'd originally conceived of her speech as a celebration of the single best day of her life. The day in question had occurred just a couple of months before October 14th, during a vacation her family had taken at the Jersey Shore. Nothing special had happened, nor had she fully grasped the extent of her happiness at the time. That realization didn't strike until later, after her husband and children were gone and she'd had more than enough sleepless nights in which to take the measure of all that she'd lost.
  It was, she said, a lovely late-summer day, warm and breezy, but not so bright that you had to think constantly about sunscreen. Sometime in the morning, her kids—Jeremy was six, Erin four; it was as old as they'd ever get—started making a sand castle, and they went about their labor with the solemn enthusiasm that children sometimes bring to the most inconsequential tasks. Nora and her husband, Doug, sat on a blanket nearby, holding hands, watching these serious little workers run to the water's edge, fill their plastic buckets with wet sand, and then come trudging back, their toothpick arms straining against the heavy loads. The kids weren't smiling, but their faces glowed with joyful purpose. The fortress they built was surprisingly large and elaborate; it kept them occupied for hours.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The fortress they built was surprisingly large and elaborate; it kept them occupied for hours. She spoke slowly and clearly—it was Oratory 101, but a surprising number of speakers missed that day—with just enough in the way of stumbles and hesitations to keep everything from seeming a bit too polished. It helped that she was an attractive woman, tall and well-proportioned, with a soft but emphatic voice. Like most of her audience, she was casually dressed, and Kevin found himself staring a little too avidly at the elaborate stitching on the back pocket of her jeans, which fit with a snugness one rarely encountered at official government functions. She had, he noticed, a surprisingly youthful body for a thirty-five-year-old woman who'd given birth to two kids. Lost two kids, he reminded himself, forcing himself to keep his chin up and focus on something more appropriate. The last thing he wanted to see on the cover of The Mapleton Messenger was a full-color photograph of the mayor ogling a grieving mother's butt.
  Nora began by saying that she'd originally conceived of her speech as a celebration of the single best day of her life. The day in question had occurred just a couple of months before October 14th, during a vacation her family had taken at the Jersey Shore. Nothing special had happened, nor had she fully grasped the extent of her happiness at the time. That realization didn't strike until later, after her husband and children were gone and she'd had more than enough sleepless nights in which to take the measure of all that she'd lost.
  It was, she said, a lovely late-summer day, warm and breezy, but not so bright that you had to think constantly about sunscreen. Sometime in the morning, her kids—Jeremy was six, Erin four; it was as old as they'd ever get—started making a sand castle, and they went about their labor with the solemn enthusiasm that children sometimes bring to the most inconsequential tasks. Nora and her husband, Doug, sat on a blanket nearby, holding hands, watching these serious little workers run to the water's edge, fill their plastic buckets with wet sand, and then come trudging back, their toothpick arms straining against the heavy loads. The kids weren't smiling, but their faces glowed with joyful purpose.On top of that, Nora turned out to be a natural.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was around this point in Nora's speech that the Guilty Remnant finally made their appearance, emerging en masse from the small patch of woods flanking the west side of the park. There were maybe twenty of them, dressed in white, moving slowly in the direction of the gathering. At first they seemed like a disorganized mob, but as they walked they began to form a horizontal line, a configuration that reminded Kevin of a search party. Each person was carrying a piece of posterboard emblazoned with a single black letter, and when they got to within shouting distance of the stage, they stopped and raised their squares overhead. Together, the jagged row of letters spelled the words stop wasting your breath.
  An angry murmur arose from the crowd, which didn't appreciate the interruption or the sentiment. Nearly the entire police force was present at the ceremony, and after a moment of uncertainty, several officers began moving toward the interlopers. Chief Rogers was on-stage, and just as Kevin rose to consult him about the wisdom of provoking a confrontation, Nora addressed the officers.
  The cops hesitated, then checked their advance after receiving a signal from the Chief. From where he sat, Kevin had a clear view of the protesters, so he knew by then that his wife was among them. Kevin hadn't seen Laurie for a couple of months, and he was struck by how much weight she'd lost, as if she'd disappeared into a fitness center instead of a Rapture cult. Her hair was grayer than he'd ever seen it—the G.R. Maybe it was the cigarette in her mouth—Laurie had been a smoker in the early days of their relationship—but the woman who stood before him, the letter N raised high above her head, reminded him more of the fun-loving girl he'd known in college than the heavyhearted, thick-waisted woman who'd walked out on him six months ago. Despite the circumstances, he felt an undeniable pang of desire for her, an actual and highly ironic stirring in his groin.
  Kevin attempted to make eye contact with Laurie throughout the sustained, somewhat defiant applause that followed, but she refused even to glance in his direction. He tried to convince himself that she was doing this against her will—she was, after all, flanked by two large bearded men, one of whom looked a little like Neil Felton, the guy who used to own the gourmet pizza place in the town center. It would have been comforting to think that she'd been instructed by her superiors not to fall into temptation by communicating, even silently, with her husband, but he knew in his heart that this wasn't the case. She could've looked at him if she'd wanted to, could've at least acknowledged the existence of the man she'd promised to spend her life with. She just didn't want to.
  Thinking about it afterward, he wondered why he hadn't climbed down from the stage, walked over there, and said, Hey, it's been a while. You look good. I miss you. There was nothing stopping him. And yet he just sat there, doing absolutely nothing, until the people in white lowered their letters, turned around, and drifted back into the woods.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about looked.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was around this point in Nora's speech that the Guilty Remnant finally made their appearance, emerging en masse from the small patch of woods flanking the west side of the park. There were maybe twenty of them, dressed in white, moving slowly in the direction of the gathering. At first they seemed like a disorganized mob, but as they walked they began to form a horizontal line, a configuration that reminded Kevin of a search party. Each person was carrying a piece of posterboard emblazoned with a single black letter, and when they got to within shouting distance of the stage, they stopped and raised their squares overhead. Together, the jagged row of letters spelled the words stop wasting your breath. 
  An angry murmur arose from the crowd, which didn't appreciate the interruption or the sentiment. Nearly the entire police force was present at the ceremony, and after a moment of uncertainty, several officers began moving toward the interlopers. Chief Rogers was on-stage, and just as Kevin rose to consult him about the wisdom of provoking a confrontation, Nora addressed the officers. 
  The cops hesitated, then checked their advance after receiving a signal from the Chief. From where he sat, Kevin had a clear view of the protesters, so he knew by then that his wife was among them. Kevin hadn't seen Laurie for a couple of months, and he was struck by how much weight she'd lost, as if she'd disappeared into a fitness center instead of a Rapture cult. Her hair was grayer than he'd ever seen it—the G. R. wasn't big on personal grooming—but on the whole, she looked strangely youthful. Maybe it was the cigarette in her mouth—Laurie had been a smoker in the early days of their relationship—but the woman who stood before him, the letter N raised high above her head, reminded him more of the fun-loving girl he'd known in college than the heavyhearted, thick-waisted woman who'd walked out on him six months ago. Despite the circumstances, he felt an undeniable pang of desire for her, an actual and highly ironic stirring in his groin. 
  Kevin attempted to make eye contact with Laurie throughout the sustained, somewhat defiant applause that followed, but she refused even to glance in his direction. He tried to convince himself that she was doing this against her will—she was, after all, flanked by two large bearded men, one of whom looked a little like Neil Felton, the guy who used to own the gourmet pizza place in the town center. It would have been comforting to think that she'd been instructed by her superiors not to fall into temptation by communicating, even silently, with her husband, but he knew in his heart that this wasn't the case. She could've looked at him if she'd wanted to, could've at least acknowledged the existence of the man she'd promised to spend her life with. She just didn't want to. 
  Thinking about it afterward, he wondered why he hadn't climbed down from the stage, walked over there, and said, Hey, it's been a while. You look good. I miss you. There was nothing stopping him. And yet he just sat there, doing absolutely nothing, until the people in white lowered their letters, turned around, and drifted back into the woods.