conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'Ancient History'?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Ancient History
  Horse's girl was a socialist and not too pretty. They had had a kid. She was taking all his time. Me and him hardly knew each other anymore. We were months out of high school.
  She learned to avoid us—when she visited we gave Horse hell and her silence. It was purely a mistake when she pulled up to Horse's crib and we were on the stoop. She had their baby wrapped tight in a gray blanket, saying good-bye to some friend who was driving; she was smiling, but when she turned her face fell. Melissa watched the four of us: Horse, Asia, Mel and me. Except for Horse, we began laughing. I did, then Asia and Mel followed. This had become so regular it was a kind of greeting. Horse walked to her and his arm went out like a kid grabbing the side of the pool to get steadied. He dipped his head to see his son. Asia went inside to use the phone. —I thought you were going to be alone, she tried to whisper.
  He said, —They just showed up. That's how I knew he was still, a little, my boy Horse: he had lied, we had been around forever.
  At the stairs she trudged between me and Mel; he looked up, was going to nod because Mel was polite, his dad raised him that way. Mel was fat and dumb, but the two had no connection; Asia was fast and dumb, but no one ever tried to blame one on the other. But Mel was going to nod so I reached out and mushed his cheek to move his gaze. Even though he got mad at me, it was like I'd shaken it loose—how we wanted to act toward her—so Mel looked down as she passed.
  Melissa had given a plastic bag to Horse, who carried it as tender as she did that kid. When he got to where I was on the stairs I snatched it from his hands, looked inside. She had brought a loaf of banana bread, fresh enough it was warm through the bag. I loved the smell but wouldn't inhale in front of them, it would be like approving of something. There were sheets of paper too, flyers, black ink on yellow paper, printouts stating that next Wednesday was the seventy-first anniversary of the founding of the East Side Chamber of Commerce; listed all the wrongs they'd done to the poor, the struggling. There would be a rally. This was the stuff that did it, she was a little older, a college student; quick to teach, quick to lecture. Horse would try to preach to me her thirdhand theories when all I wanted was to watch a movie. I ripped the ten identical sheets and handed them back to my boy.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs? End with the sentence ' Among ourselves we've got all the fights we can handle.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Dan smiled. —Well, Ahab, let me tell you what fun is. Fun is running up in some pretty little Filipino girl and leaving the next day.
  The Latino Marine said, from his desk, —Filipino girls. Those women are strictly fine. His nose was twisted to the left, he'd broken it a few too many times. It sat there on his face, his only medal.
  The room wasn't small, so when I asked a question I had to shout. —So we spend billions just to get American boys foreign pussy?
  Even Ahab, they all watched me like they were waiting to hear what was so hard to believe. Ahab was angry with me, he shook his head with Dan the way two doctors might over a patient long past saving. I shrugged. The one with the busted nose said to Ahab, —I think your friend needs a little..., then he punched the air twice.
  The black Marine was a clod; he was scowling at me as though I was embarrassing him. I walked outside, down the block to the store I'd come for, a Lechter's that sold better wares than the cheap imitations on Jamaica Avenue. I wanted to surprise Melissa with something, even as simple as a cutting board, just to show her I was serious about making a home. Inside the store I looked at bread baskets and salad forks. In one aisle I passed two guys, my age, unpacking boxes. One was promising that kids from Hollis were going to take care of some people in Queens Village. How many times had I been around this nonsense? Brothers from Laurelton fighting ones out of Rosedale, the same between South Jamaica and Rochdale. The fights were all the same. Queens is huge. Of all the boroughs, it is the only city to stand on its own. Manhattan pretends at self-reliance. You hear of one borough battling another, Brooklyn vs. the Bronx, like that, but here, Queens has enough of its own. We don't need to import enemies. Among ourselves we've got all the fights we can handle.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last four paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Despite Horse's laughing, the attempt to drown me, I could ignore him. I was thinking of the uniform, how it would fit. With anticipation. For fucking days I had been watching television, thinking I had to pack in a lot of viewing time because when I went to boot camp I'd be spending all my hours doing sit-ups and marching in the rain. Four nights before, I came across this channel, the little gold H in the right bottom corner. All these white guys at desks, screaming. It was funny to me, this was almost forty years ago and they rocked electric blue blazers, thick-ass ties. It was when Nixon was going down, had done all that impeachable shit. Then the camera cuts to this one lady, behind a desk too; she's talking about her Country and her Constitution, which she loves. Loved. She spoke clearly, directly, all the ways Horse had been trying lately, hers had no sneer. Horse was an obnoxious motherfucker. I didn't tell him about Barbara Jordan. But watching her, how much she looked like me, it was the first time I'd thought my only options in the world weren't to be like Horse or to be like Sanford.
  When I first mentioned I was leaving, changing neighborhoods and lives, I was all joyful. No parts regret. I enjoyed telling Ahab, slowly, which buses he could take to visit, knowing he never would. When I grabbed him tight in a hug, I know, it wasn't to show Ahab love. It was triumphant on my part, like in life I was the only hero. From how he was acting, Ahab might have been stupid enough to be feeling that way about America.
  I left Horse behind, waited on the beach for maybe half an hour while he paddled out there, turning his back to the shore and staring at the far horizon, maybe thinking of his future like I was. When he finally came in we agreed the ship was lost, left like so many other things to drift on ocean currents for maybe five hundred years. On the bus we didn't speak. To be the fortunate son, even men like us wanted this.
  In our neighborhood I walked to my house while Horse sped around the corner in a rush. He owned a Chevy, two-door, not sporty. It didn't run, two wheels were on cinder blocks, but he liked to sit in it like he might pull off. The radio worked. We lived barely a block apart, so when he got to it, I could hear the yelp of a rusted car door opening, the sound like bones being broken, loud like that.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: We lived barely a block apart, so when he got to it, I could hear the yelp of a rusted car door opening, the sound like bones being broken, loud like that.. The radio worked. It didn't run, two wheels were on cinder blocks, but he liked to sit in it like he might pull off. He owned a Chevy, two-door, not sporty.
  In our neighborhood I walked to my house while Horse sped around the corner in a rush. To be the fortunate son, even men like us wanted this. On the bus we didn't speak. When he finally came in we agreed the ship was lost, left like so many other things to drift on ocean currents for maybe five hundred years.
  I left Horse behind, waited on the beach for maybe half an hour while he paddled out there, turning his back to the shore and staring at the far horizon, maybe thinking of his future like I was. From how he was acting, Ahab might have been stupid enough to be feeling that way about America. It was triumphant on my part, like in life I was the only hero. When I grabbed him tight in a hug, I know, it wasn't to show Ahab love. I enjoyed telling Ahab, slowly, which buses he could take to visit, knowing he never would. No parts regret.
  When I first mentioned I was leaving, changing neighborhoods and lives, I was all joyful. But watching her, how much she looked like me, it was the first time I'd thought my only options in the world weren't to be like Horse or to be like Sanford. I didn't tell him about Barbara Jordan. Horse was an obnoxious motherfucker. She spoke clearly, directly, all the ways Horse had been trying lately, hers had no sneer. Loved. Then the camera cuts to this one lady, behind a desk too; she's talking about her Country and her Constitution, which she loves. It was when Nixon was going down, had done all that impeachable shit. It was funny to me, this was almost forty years ago and they rocked electric blue blazers, thick-ass ties. All these white guys at desks, screaming. Four nights before, I came across this channel, the little gold H in the right bottom corner. For fucking days I had been watching television, thinking I had to pack in a lot of viewing time because when I went to boot camp I'd be spending all my hours doing sit-ups and marching in the rain. With anticipation. I was thinking of the uniform, how it would fit.Despite Horse's laughing, the attempt to drown me, I could ignore him