Mock IO fragments

 Fragment A - “Lemonade” - “Daddy Lessons”

Yee-haw
Ooh
Texas, Texas (Ooh) Texas

Came into this world, daddy's little girl
And Daddy made a soldier out of me (Ooh)
Daddy made me dance and Daddy held my hand (Ooh) And Daddy liked his whiskey with his tea

And we rode motorcycles Blackjack, classic vinyl
Tough girl is what I had to be
He said, "Take care of your mother Watch out for your sister"

And oh, that's when he gave to me

With his gun and his head held high, he told me not to cry Oh, my daddy said shoot
Oh, my daddy said shoot
With his right hand on his rifle, he swore it on the bible My daddy said shoot

Oh, my daddy said shoot
He held me in his arms and he taught me to be strong
He told me when he's gone, "Here's what you do
When trouble comes in town and men like me come around" Oh, my daddy said shoot
Oh, my daddy said shoot


Fragment B - “A Dry White Season” - Part two, chapter five

"We get along perfectly." In the obscure golden gloom of the lamp, surrounded by everything familiar to her, she seemed to shed her reticence more easily. "You see, he was nearly fifty when he came back from the War and married my mother in London. She was – oh, years younger than he, the daughter of old friends. And after a romance of only three weeks - when he'd known her before the War, she'd still been a child, he'd never paid any attention to her - they got married. But she couldn't adapt to South Africa and just a year after I was born they were divorced. She went back to London and we've never seen her since. He brought me up on his own." She sipped her brandy, smiling with all the generosity of her mouth. "God knows how he managed, he's the most unpractical man I've ever seen." For a while it was quiet, except for the cats purring, and the rustling sound of her chair as she moved her legs. "He studied law to start with," she said. "Became an advocate. But then he grew fed up with it and dropped everything and went to Germany to study philosophy. It was in the early Thirties. He spent some time in Tübingen and in Berlin, and a year in Jena. But he got so depressed by what was happening in the Third Reich that he came back here in ‘Thirty-eight. When war broke out, he joined the army to fight Hitler and ended up spending three years in a German camp."

"What about yourself?"
She looked up quickly, studying him for a minute. "There isn't much to say about me." "What made you become a journalist?"
"Sometimes I ask myself the same question." She fell silent again, her eyes large and mysterious in the dusky room. Then, as if she'd suddenly made up her mind, she said: “All right, I'll tell you. I don't know why, I don't like talking about myself."
He waited quietly, aware of a growing relaxation, an openness made possible by the increasing darkness outside and the gentleness of the old house.
"I was brought up in a very sheltered way," she said. “Not that he was possessive - not openly, anyway. I think he'd just seen enough of the mess the world was in to want to protect me as much as he could. Not against suffering as such, but against unnecessary suffering. And later, at university, I took a nice, safe course. Literature mainly. Hoping to become a teacher. Then I got married to a man I'd met at school, he'd been one of my teachers. He adored me, carried me on his hands, just like Dad had done." She moved her head; her dark hair stirred. "I suppose that was where the trouble started."