conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is a plot for a book about Garrett, Shayir, Godoroth entitled Petty Pewter Gods?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Petty Pewter Gods: Garrett is a hardboiled detective living in the city of TunFaire, a melting pot of different races, cultures, religions, and species.\nWhen people have problems, they often come to Garrett for help, but trouble has a way of finding Garrett on its own, whether he likes it or not.\nTunFaire is in a state of unrest; with the sudden end of the war in the Cantard, returning former soldiers are at odds with the half-breeds and immigrants who have taken their places in society.\nGarrett, however, has his own problems to worry about - he gets knocked out, brought before a group of small-time gods known as the Godoroth, and forced into working for them.\nThe goal: find the "key" to the one remaining temple up for grabs in TunFaire, and do so before the Shayir, the Godoroth\'s rivals.\nThe Shayir find out about the Godoroth\'s plans.\nThe Shayir capture Garrett and give him their side of the story.\nOnly with the help of a renegade Shayir called Cat does Garrett manage to escape.\nAs the civil unrest escalates into full-fledged street warfare, the Godoroth and Shayir elevate their search for Garrett, and Cat, who has her own agenda, is apparently the only one Garrett can trust.\nWhen the battle between the Godoroth and Shayir spills over into the world of the living, causing madness in the streets of TunFaire, the more powerful gods of the city decide it is time to intervene.\nAfter an epic battle between gods, Garrett hopes the trouble is over, but the Dead Man thinks there is still a missing piece or two to the puzzle.\nEventually, the Dead Man deduces that there was yet another party behind the struggle between the Godoroth and Shayir.\nWhen everything settles down and is sorted out, the remaining gods go back to their own business, leaving Garrett to go back to his beer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: \nWhen people have problems, they often come to Garrett for help, but trouble has a way of finding Garrett on its own, whether he likes it or not.\nTunFaire is in a state of unrest; with the sudden end of the war in the Cantard, returning former soldiers are at odds with the half-breeds and immigrants who have taken their places in society.\nGarrett, however, has his own problems to worry about - he gets knocked out, brought before a group of small-time gods known as the Godoroth, and forced into working for them.\nThe goal: find the "key" to the one remaining temple up for grabs in TunFaire, and do so before the Shayir, the Godoroth\'s rivals.\nThe Shayir find out about the Godoroth\'s plans.\nThe Shayir capture Garrett and give him their side of the story.\nOnly with the help of a renegade Shayir called Cat does Garrett manage to escape.\nAs the civil unrest escalates into full-fledged street warfare, the Godoroth and Shayir elevate their search for Garrett, and Cat, who has her own agenda, is apparently the only one Garrett can trust.\nWhen the battle between the Godoroth and Shayir spills over into the world of the living, causing madness in the streets of TunFaire, the more powerful gods of the city decide it is time to intervene.\nAfter an epic battle between gods, Garrett hopes the trouble is over, but the Dead Man thinks there is still a missing piece or two to the puzzle.\nEventually, the Dead Man deduces that there was yet another party behind the struggle between the Godoroth and Shayir.\nWhen everything settles down and is sorted out, the remaining gods go back to their own business, leaving Garrett to go back to his beer.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Petty Pewter Gods
  I greeted the morning the only way that makes sense. I groaned. I groaned some more as I pried me off the sheet. Several thousand maniacs were raising hell out in the street. I muttered dreadful threats, dropped my feet into the abyss beside my bed. My threats didn't scare up any peace.
  Pain blazed from my right temple to my left, ricocheted, clattered around inside my skull. I must have had a great time. I told me, "You got to quit drinking that cheap beer."
  The guy jacking his jaw was yakking way too loud. I clapped a hand over his mouth. He shut up. I used my other hand to open a curtain a peek. I had some morning-mad notion that by looking I could grab a clue about all that racket.
  A club of sunshine whacked me right between the eyes. Like to laid me out. Gah! An ill omen for sure. These bright days are never kind. Everybody I ran into would be just like the weather: warm and sunny. Argh! I was in the mood for low overcast and light drizzle, maybe with a frigid south wind.
  I didn't notice the human rights guys and their ugly banners shoving dwarves and elves aside as they chased a gang of centaur refugees, flinging bricks and stones. I didn't chuckle when some fool bounced a rock off a fourteen-foot troll's beak and took up a brief career as a human club. Just another day of political dialogue in my hometown.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: What a sight that must have been, the Dead Man surrounded by beautiful women reading aloud, him absorbing the information they provided while smugly ignoring the fact that I was flailing around on the bottom in the deep smelly stuff somewhere else. And he had been aware of my plight—the Goddamn Parrot, having abandoned me to my fate, had flown home to him.
  Although he was probably blowing smoke and wasn't really doing anything, it was refreshing to hear him claim that he was.
  Yes. It was. He was in full command of his powers, which meant there would be no getting any last word.
  I jerked my hand away from my waist. That rope was damned seductive. It was hard not to fiddle with its ends.
  When the going gets tough the tough guy takes his problems to Eleanor. "What do you think, Darling?" Hell, Eleanor might be more use than the Dead Man.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And he had been aware of my plight—the Goddamn Parrot, having abandoned me to my fate, had flown home to him.
  Although he was probably blowing smoke and wasn't really doing anything, it was refreshing to hear him claim that he was.
  Yes. It was. He was in full command of his powers, which meant there would be no getting any last word.
  I jerked my hand away from my waist. That rope was damned seductive. It was hard not to fiddle with its ends.
  When the going gets tough the tough guy takes his problems to Eleanor. "What do you think, Darling?" Hell, Eleanor might be more use than the Dead Man.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What is the last three paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The very next time there was a shakeout in the Dream Quarter, Maggie's gang headed west ten places. They had managed to turn the near destruction of TunFaire into a public relations coup.
  The really bad, horrible, awful part of the whole ordeal, more a cause for despair than any interdimensional hole with a starving tentacle factory stuck in it, came when a nasty little neighbor brat pounded on the drunken, leaning remains of my door and hollered, "Mr. Garrett?"
  As I carried the bird to his perch I wondered if I burned the house could I get him and the Dead Man both?